Impoverished Fate

She drooled overthe soggy fries
discarded inthe foul rust bin.
She feasted withthe famished flie sand cockroaches.
She bathed her throat
with the drink tagged
imitation ---
quenching the thirst
of her dried hoarse
esophagus.

In occasion,
she would look
at the portraits
of the people
inside and wished
for the same fate.

As they leave the frames,
she begged for
old alchemist mints
and cherished them
like fine aurum
that can be pawned
for a treasure
more valuable.