Homelessness

The homeless man
In the center of the street
Walking
Looking for coins in the night
Walks slow and indeterminately
But faster than me
As I go to my home
The place I have avoided
Since the time she broke my heart a little
Using words I said were hurtful to me
As a weapon of her ignorance in love
I slowly shy away
From the cage I have prepared myself
Awaiting me at home
"What have I done?"
I wonder in this moment lost
"Who can I be with this?"
I do not know
Do I make my bed or lie in it?
Do I walk the flight of stairs?
Or take the lift
To where I care less now to be?
And if I choose the lift
Do I open the door to get out
When I reach the third floor?
Or do I wait inside for fate to send someone
To either call the lift or open the door
Deciding for me whether I stay inside
Take the third floor
Or go back the way I came
Out
Into the night?
Where bums walk in the streets
Much faster than me
Because they have the happiness of nickels
Found on pavement stained with crime
And the joy of knowing
That the night sky welcomes them
And loves that they are there for it
While I, the less and traveled by
Give more than what I am
To nothing, as it seems
But a fit of love before a slumber
And a changed demeanor on the wake
Oh kindness,
Where is that old word you said to me before?
The one you used in quiet times
To give me hope and love and more?
Where is that old softening word
That told me I deserve the world?
Can I not hear it now, just once?
Can I not know that fateful voice and chime?
Believe me, if I could, I would
Give everything again to hear that voice once more
But where am I, if lost and known?
I am exactly that, though halfly so:
So lost
And yet unknown
But I guess that makes more sense than lost and known
So should I not in this find joy?
That the normalcy of my soul:
So lost and so unknown
Is normal and not strange?
Such sweetened solace
In the shades of bitterness
Found only in the quiet depths
Of an old and dangling fate
In the old and changing wake
Of an old and quiet man
Walking
Indeterminately
Down the streets of cars and tar
And night-swept lightning street lamps
To find a fate now old and shaking
Talking crazy to the sleeping pigeons
And dancing loneliness
Like a stain
In the back of an old and battered mind
To find itself again
In the arms of one who knows the pain
Of loneliness set in
And the quiet hatred
Of a self-torn riot
Sitting hard and alone
On a cold metal chair
While the one he loves lies restfully
Oblivious or remorseless
Just a room and a half away
On the softest bed love ever knew

12:17am
2 Oct 2007
Los Angeles, Ca
Korea Town Apartment