4:30 am

Sitting in my van,

And I hear coughing.

I gaze out the window

Toward the McDonalds

And see the silhouette of a man

Step, step, cough, cough, cough

Step, cough, cough, step cough

Homeless.  The shelter is nearby

And they are all over around here.

And I wonder as I cough, cough, type cough,

And pretend I do not see,

What can be done?

3 hot meals a day

A block away.

A bed for some.

But it is more than that,

Demons that the benevolent cannot touch,

Death that works its way into the heart, the lungs.

And I think as we cough, cough, type, step

That we are connected.

And yet I notice him.

And he doesn’t notice me.

What does that mean?

Nothing perhaps.

Or not.