Where will you live when you have no place to live?

Where will you live when you have no place to live?
 
I’ll live at the sewer opening, and piss standing up.
I’ll live at the entrance to the pharmacy, and they’ll give me presents
                                                                      of expired drugs.
I’ll live in a big cardboard box in the market, and in the morning I’ll help drag
                                                                      sacks of potatoes.
I’ll live in a flower box in Yemin Moshe and when I sleep my nose will graze
                                                                      tall flowers imported from Holland.
 
Where will you live when you have no place to live,
when you’re thrown out of the apartment you’ve lived in for thirty years.
When only a mezuzah remains on the wall.
When new governments and new ministers arrive, and you have
just
a little
salt.
When you are fired from work where you joked with everyone.
Also
a sort
of a joke.
When you receive food from a charity you used to contribute to.
Clothes from the garbage bin, and you’ll actually like them.
When the man you loved stands with his back to you and pisses
                                                                        and you have to leave.
You’ll lug a suitcase and a few plastic bags.
People from the welfare office will come to you and ask:
                                                                        “Whose pants are these?”
And they’ll say that if you have a man around the house, you don’t need
                                                                        money of your own.
At different work places they’ll check to see if you’re really healthy.
And that you are childless. So you can work every day until five.
And when your mother finally lies down in her concrete neighborhood
                                        and looks out on the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway,
if you could visit, you’d come to be of help.

Where will you live when you have no place to live?