Written by: victor dixon

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.