Smudges of dirt into the hair,
His eyes had black rings
under and around
as he sat on the ground
fully fury bearded face,
like a raccoon.

But he was a man.

The bandage adhesive surrounded
what was a mark in the center
of his forehead, a red welt that
had encountered a hard harsh
reality, a beating and a loss.
The hospital was just around the corner.

But he was homeless.

He had his second place prizes, empty
bottles of liquid to sanitize hands
lifted by his, tortured short
fingers, surprisingly agile,
laughing at his own guile.
The hospital is just around the corner.

And his two litre bottle stash,
under his coat,
behind his back, in the long grass.

He was crouched behind
the chain link fence, smiled
and laughed to himself as
the dog and I walked by,
what could I offer him that
he didn't already have,

he wore A coat,
he had A toque,
he had currency in
the form of half a gallon
of hand sanitizer,
he was happy,
I heard him laugh,
saw a broken tooth,
and cut lip,
his world and my world,
were not far apart even though,
we could only taste the other's
reality.

He is a homeless man and I don't
know his name.