Cough, Cough, Type Step

4:30 am
Sitting in my van,
And I hear coughing.
I gaze out the window
Toward the McDonalds
And see the silhouette of a man
Step, step, cough, cough, cough
Step, cough, cough, step cough
Homeless.  The shelter is nearby
And they are all over around here.
And I wonder as I cough, cough, type cough,
And pretend I do not see,
What can be done?
3 hot meals a day
A block away.
A bed for some.
But it is more than that,
Demons that the benevolent cannot touch,
Death that works its way into the heart, the lungs.
And I think as we cough, cough, type, step
That we are connected.
And yet I notice him.
And he doesn’t notice me.
What does that mean?
Nothing perhaps.
Or not.