He stares out his window through the cigarette fog;
The suits and skirts step off the steps
Of Industry into the rain, pouring down on CEO
And bum alike. The suit who buys 370 dollar shoes
Can't part with the pennies which would give the
Bum a taco, so for one night his lullaby
Would be something other than his howling hunger.

His wallpaper peels with the yellow of secrets,
Feeding like parasites of the mind.
For the first time since She left, He feels pity.
He throws on his tattered raincoat and goes to the bum.
His table is set for two for the first time in
Two-and-a-half years. They eat in silence,
Staring, neither knowing what to say.

The bum curls up on the couch and sleeps like a king,
He goes to His bedroom.

He wakes up bound to the bed, blood pooled from his
Slit wrists. His bookshelf toppled
And the shell of His empty wallet thrown aside.
Life can be a bitch.