Empathy

There was an orange glow under an overpass; there were empty cans and broken glass; graffiti on the cemente and secrets in the grass - and it's where I stopped to rest. He was an old man, he said his name was Jack; he looked me over, asked me what I had; when I said company, he offered his bread - and he assured me it was blessed. He told me he didn't have long to live, cuz there were too many things he couldn't live with; and he admitted advice wasn't his to give - and I listened carefully. He said, "It's a long life when you're all alone; that bloodstains never come clean if they aren't your own," and that "you can live forever in a beautiful poem." and he said to call it empathy.