a skinny man with glasses stops and asks where and why i am going

in the same direction he is

he probably wonders why i have no one chasing me yet my face isn't glowing

he sees a life with no thesis

i tell him i do not know- and that is the truth- that i travel on his way

he smiles- traveling with a man so aloof- on such a clouded day

he does not know when he will get to where he wants to go

and he does not know whether by that time, i will still be in tow

but whether it rains from here, for miles and miles, till the next town

he does not know that i have nothing better to do that to follow him around

for in the times of war and the devastation of the soul, somewhere in the storm

the loneliness of the heart will cling to anyone who can make it warm