Free Haiku by Andrew Vachss

huge room which has become a public toilet.
    Even the most desperate of our tribe would not venture to sleep in such a place. The first floor is urban quicksand—human waste alive with voracious rats. And the only remaining stairway to other floors is not trustworthy, its slimy treacherousness amplified by the ever-present darkness.
    Brewster has contrived to make the passage to the highest floor—the fourth—even more difficult, by use of strands of razor wire purloined from construction sites. He knows that none who enter the building would be seeking anything more than a place to relieve themselves, aware that the price of sleep could be death. Nevertheless, Brewster must be absolutely
certain
his treasures are safe in his absence—even the thick bales of rat poison that line the space he uses are constantly refreshed.
    As a further precaution, all Brewster’s paperback books are carefully sealed inside multiple layers of plastic storage bags.
    Maintaining his library is hard labor; Brewster’s diligence to his task is remarkable. I was impressed by the extent of his precautions, especially in regard to personal hygiene. Each time he enters the building, Brewster carries a complete change of clothing inside several thick trash bags. When he exits, he removes all his fouled clothing and throws it away. Then he cleanses his body with antiseptic wipes, and changes into the clothing he brought with him.
    Even though Brewster can accomplish all this at amazing speed, he has twice been apprehended by the police while still in a state of undress. Apparently—I do not actually understand how this works—Brewster carries certain identification that allows him to avoid arrest on such occasions.
    Although Brewster acquires his books only by honest means, be they purchase or laborious scavenging, his personal code allows him to shoplift anything required to maintain them. The book-storage bags he uses are apparently sold in numerous comic-book stores throughout the city. Brewster is a very successful shoplifter, because he always presents a neat, clean appearance and is unfailingly polite. Additionally, he does make occasional purchases, so his “browsing” is not viewed with suspicion.
    Lamont explained that Brewster’s “no fall” history is due to the fact that such stores will zealously guard their most expensive merchandise, but pay no real attention to trivial items such as storage bags.
    Michael and Ranger had once managed to procure several large cartons of these plastic bags. I do not know how they achieved this, although it was clear they had meshed their respective skills to collaborate on the project. Brewster was almost overcome with gratitude. Michael was quite proud of the achievement, but provided no details. Ranger was silent.
    “I just hope that psycho didn’t ice some delivery guy,” Lamont had whispered to me at the time.
    Brewster’s older sister allows him to visit her home whenever he wishes. Each time, he returns with fresh clothing, and small amounts of money. He can visit only in the daytime; his sister’s husband objects to his presence.
    None of us has ever asked him why he chooses to live our life.
    For many years, Brewster was able to spend every night in his library. Inevitably, his collection grew so that it took upall the available space, and he was never insane enough to try sleeping downstairs. Now any agreement to “meet at Brewster’s library” actually signifies that we will assemble outside the building. From there, we move as one until we find a place to discuss whatever is necessary.
    That evening, immediately upon his arrival, I noticed that Michael was wearing a new pair of running shoes. “New” as in “different,” to be more precise. Between the privileged joggers who fervently believe such gear must be replaced every few months, and the sheep who would rather suffer physical pain than be seen wearing out-of-fashion footwear, the Dumpsters throughout the city