Who remembers the forgotten: the white bicycles that fade in the sun; the crosses and plastic flowers, whose visitors appear on Sundays after church; the dogs and cats left bloating in the sun; living room and bedroom remnants, tossed in the dark? Who remembers the forgotten: the nowhere people who haunt fields and washes, had jobs, or maybe not, and have nowhere to go; those who seek handouts and create sad stories to part other folks from their cash? Who remembers the forgotten: until they too join the ranks? Have you ever seen someone dealing with homelessness and wanted to…