Homeless Man In Need of Home.

Homeless Man In Need of Home

A man sits on a train track smoking

Cigars.

He is looking up at the night sky,

Wishing he were at home.

He is a man of many means,

And cannot escape the things of his past,

That ache in his chest like old vines growing.

Morning comes and he wakes, rise and shine,

And he is a mask of reasons untaking;

He is the river that is flowing in the north,

And good things come, and yet there is the bad,

Wrapped in shrouds.

I am a good man, he says, patting himself on the

Shoulder as if he couldn’t stand what he was going

Through on a daily basis,

Sometimes people give him money on side streets,

Sometimes there are things that make him whole

Again,

Like good money and good beer.

He needs a job but no one will hire him,

He has a degree in communications,

He has a method of transportation, but this is where he lives,

On train tracks or in his car.

Someone said once he is sick in the head and spat in his

Face, and he didn’t call for an ambulance because he has

A kind soul.

In the distance, the darkness doesn’t seem so great;

Because he is homeless and doesn’t know where he is going

To live the next day, maybe a motel, maybe a place

That requires an id and then the next day comes and the next

And the next and still he is not whole.