Brown-gray whiskers chaotically twirling wreath his face. A testament to hardship and wisdom accumulated. His eyes are an ocean deep and unknowable. Monsters swim in its deep, Indescribable. His face is cracked and wrinkled but the skin is taut too tight and jawline stretched. Mist-like hair meets shoulders, greasily tangling. In front of him a rust spotted buggy, creaking groaning holds his world. Trash bag continents slide against each other making new mountains, transforming shopping cart geography. I meet his eyes on the sidewalk but quickly look away. I always look away.