Walking down the street is like walking through people’s lives
And as I was walking, I saw the sky
Slowly turn a dull grey
I could smell rain in the air
The taste of iron
On my tongue
I stopped beside a homeless man
With his tattered clothes
Sleeping bag
And grey hair
To give him some change
The coin felt cold on my hand
And as I pressed it into his,
He murmured “Janice, is that you?”
Later, when it was raining
I thought back to the homeless man
With his 25 cents that used to be mine
And how strange it was
That I walked through his life
And all he has is a quarter
To spend
And his life walked through mine
And now I have this story
To tell