homeless man on G street

Homeless Man On G Street

I miss that homeless man on G Street
His eyes, gaze
Deep, black and like a pit
Eats me up in bright daylight
With a look, he spoke

I want to take him aside
And feel the lines
Grubby, hardened skin
On his face
And wipe it clean

I want to take his hands
And put in them something warm
To help
With that one sleepful night
I want to take him aside

I know he’s been
To where I’m going.
Homeless man on G Street
Don’t look at me
With sadness, stop

Tears have become unworthy
Hollow-filled
With no feel
Yet they flow
They flow

Oh, homeless man on G Street
Your eyes do not lie
Look away
Aside
Afar

I’m in London
On a train to Coventry
And I know
Time and miles away
You are there

On that weathered bench
We’re seated
On the same ride
Homeless man
On G Street


i had this poem in my head for about 3 years before i released it onto a blank sheet one night not too long ago. it's about a weird, inexplicable connection i had with a homeless man on g street in DC. i saw him almost daily - the constant meeting day after day with this homeless guy strangely made this foreigner feel less homesick. his eyes and face told me about a life that was not just his - but ours, you, me and anyone who has a soul and heart. when we strip it al down, we'll realize that we are all the same trip, the same journey. i owe one person who gave me the eyes to see the world around me as it is. this is yours - your words spoken through me - i give them back to you and everyone else.