He has crows feet, and gray hair.
He's got a scar just under his cheek, and arthritis.
All of it looks earned.

There's a slight breeze,
you can tell because charmed snake of smoke
belly dancing off his cigarette drifts a little to the left.
He takes a drag with this intensity
like he's in a movie
and he's about to say something cathartic
to our young protagonist about the meaning of life.

But he doesn't say anything.
He just flicks the ashes to the ground
and keeps staring across the steaming asphalt of the empty street
at the now vacant lot
like something's supposed to be there
and he can't for the life of him remember what.