Unpacking

Jackie and her boyfriend, Jack,
have only bottles to unpack.
They sleep on a deserted sidewalk
(not in any place where I’d walk).

Each day the pair unpacks their stash
and swaps it for a bit of cash.
They’ve rotting teeth and sagging skin
and graying hair. They’re toothpick-thin.

They rummage through the garbage cans
with nothing but their weathered hands.
Can you or I hope to unpack
the point of such a life of lack?

They barely have a bit of bread
but oceans-full of love instead.