the clock read 4 am
in new york city,

one hell of a city

i was at a little coffee place, still open
it was one i frequented often, when in the sin
a place of pity
when you look closely at the people or inspect the buildings a bit nearer
some street blocks you need just look down
but i'd bought a cup for a nice young fella out on his luck
he'd made the pavement his pillow
and as he talked my ear off
on physics, domestic politics, and stocks
i thought of what little difference
it made to so many
whether it was him or i
calling my stay on the straightaways
and the little that made us separate