Hello.

Dead men and women walking,

Ghost eyes looking at me.

Regrets walking on the opposite side of the street.

Coulda been’s, Shoulda been’s, All them,

Just what mighta’ been.


What about the motorcycle guy?

The one who says hi to everyone?
Everyone knows him, everyone sees him,

Kinda hard not to, with his stickered helmet,

open personality, and big blue twin bike.


Who really knows his life?

Nobody sees where he goes,

Where he sleeps at night.


The bench,

The Walmart parking lot,

The bridge over by 7th avenue.

No one     sees

Where     he sleeps.