One carries an empty pail from noontimes meal
The other pulls a cigarette from behind the ear
I drive on past, wonder how does he feel?
For whatever reason his dirtied face had caught my eye...
with his pants tucked into ol' Justin boots and a
Carhardt jacket that had seen its better days
His head upturned towards the road,
and peering from under a Boston sox cap
I swear Id seen him once before
Hes walked that road for many days
To and from a job at lands end
where water meets the shore, he works on boats
he will never get to drive...constant 9-5.
Wheres he off to? Somewhere I hope
that he calls home
Cuz the eastern boards too lonesome and cold.
February delivers its harsh mother nature blows
In forms of snow and sleet and makes for
ice so slippery under our feet.
May his destination provide for warmth and shelter
A hard workin man deserves so much better.
Still no idear why he touched my heart so near but to place this
pen to milky paper allows an outlet for a haunting fear.
I glance in my rearview, to see the young man staring back,
And at once I wondered, what did he see when he looked at me?
His eyes were sad and dark...hiding shadows from a toxic past that would be his last.
Or so Ive been told, the tales been sold..that the man with the lunch pail, had died right there.
~HKJ 2010
