Stairs

Seated in sweat pants and old shoes
looking up the wooden, ratty staircase
from a spot on a jagged concrete slab,
I wonder if anyone is inside the apartment,
listening as the wind occasionally stirs the chimes.

It'd feel more homeless if it wasn't for a dorm room,
storing more things than one person should own.
But is it really that different
when I walk the stairs to sixth floor
knowing that no one is expecting me at the top?