I spent last night
With a homeless man.
He asked to *** a cigarette,
And next thing you know,
Hours passed
Just sitting on a New York bench,
And talking about life.
He told me about his dream
To be an astronaut,
And how he would give anything
To tell his mother he was sorry.
At one point,
He put his hand on my chest
And felt my heart beating
For a few seconds.
He looked into my eyes
And asked me why I was so sad.
No reason.
I'm not sad.
It's just cold,
And I was just thinking
That August never sticks around
As long as I'd like.