He shuffled through the door
and pulled up a chair at the table.
His name was Eddie,
he's from New Hampshire.
He'd traveled down the east coast
to Georgia,
and was looking for a spear part
to his car.
His clothes were *****, old, and worn-out,
evidence of his vagabond life.
A tv cable kept his pants up
instead of a belt.
Eddie's eyes were heavy from sleepless nights
spent on the road,
and  he wore a cross around his neck
because he lived on a prayer;
I don't know where he's going
or why he pulled up that chair
all I know is that for a few minutes
he was my friend
and I was his too.