“SHELTER”

I spotted his bones by the bus stop.
He looked like a crosss
between last year’s car wreck
and a hundred year old salt lick.
His headlights gazed into the distance
and for a short time,
he was somewhere warm
and then I asked him for the time,
bringing him back to the cold.

narrative poem written on 01-21-2009 by: on mattkane.com
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