tidies up his clothes
seemingly unaware that
he still looks homeless
his eyes smile in petition
doesn't have to ask—you know

breeze shifts to downwind
smell of beer and cigarettes
he's run out of *****?
his one gray sock is holey
skin grimy, chafed and bleeding

turn away my gaze
to my everlasting shame
give or not to give
it's not even a question
he needs more than I can offer