They speak a different language, they who act like my life is not the nothing it is. A language of put-down smiles, secret glances, pity welling in their perfectly made up eyes. I don't like them. I don't like them thinking they change my life with a single act of kindness. I've known before there is good in the world. They prove nothing to me, I do what I do regardless. Do they feed a child, born from the same mother as them, but practically their own? Do they stay out working 'till the sun is long gone and sleeping over the hills? Do they think that just because they smile at me in a way they think is warm and welcoming, I find trust? I see they see only dirt in me. I see they don't think of me as equal. I find good in the world, but not in them. The blankets they give me, I take them. I feel the same right to them as the things in the stores I hide wrapped inside them. They are not mine. I need them though. I do not have a magic card that pays me for slotting it into a box on a street corner. I do have lovely fingers that pay me from the pockets of those who do. It is work, I get paid. They crazy women who think that I need change? They can live their lives thinking they changed mine. They don't do s***. I see them, cars and dogs that don't bite off fingers, walking feeling good about what they've given me. They gave me less then they think, and more than they'll know until they look in their fancy zippered purses. I find good in the flowers my sister picks while she sits with the women. She smiles at them, but she doesn't like them either. They play with her hair and send her to care places where I do not know to find her, and where the children speak the language of the women. She hates the sad smiles like I do, and she can tell the children feel she is filthy to touch. I find good in badly made purses and pants-pockets. I find good in alleyways that do not have mice in the morning wrapped in my curls. I find good in the man who shares his street corner. I find good in the girls who work at the shelter where it is too crowded for me, but they tried. I do not find good in fake. Even I know you cannot get good from fake. Fake lasts barely a week past the last batch of smiling people. I find good in the world. Not the women.