Leaves rustle like paper
I saw his body lump
over a street heater
I heard his voice cutting through the air

Halfway from the crosswalk,
a warm section of sidewalk
The lopsided blanket, he said,
was the roof over his head

So I sat with them
late that night
while one finished his joint
and the street grew quiet

He said the obscenity
came from his culture
He said his life
was all past and no future