I Caught Eyes With the Man On the Street

i caught eyes with the man on the streets cracked weathered hands beating upon the newspaper racks to no tune except for the symphony in his head he is lost from the looks of the external but internally he is calm and relaxed the headphones that he wears play no sound only replaying voices and memories from another time something his mind is able to travel he people gazes and rests upon the press democrat box with style we catch eyes once again i have known this man before i have met him, but where and how most importantly why have i met him maybe upon the train track yards or saloons around the dusty american dreamed towns desolate and forbidding to the common folk i have come across this street dwelling man before perhaps another life time either past or future i have a common memory of this poor soul a soul with a heart taht shines big wide eyes eyes that scream please help or talk to me but all the hip santa rosan residents with there fad hair cuts and uncomfortable looking walks each step they take looks painful to the gut they all fly by with no care or even a wince as if he doesn't exist in their world we catch eyes once more i know this man my eyes watrer up with tears i have put a pause on my american dreamed adventures i went too far down the road i was succombed by the uglyside of rambling and life and death gambling this man and i perhaps onced played as children running in a field with no cares laughing as the prairer dog free among the praires it is possible i saved his life it is more probable he saved mine somewhere down the road someday where the dust never settles in arm reach and the clearest visible sight is only what you can dream