strange avenues where you lose all sense of direction
and everywhere is main street in the winter sun.
the wino sleeps cold coat lined with the money section.
looking like a a record cover from 1971.
and here am i warm feet and a limo waiting.
shall i make us both feel good?
and would a dollar do?
but in your streets, i have no credit rating
and it might not take a lot to be alone just like you.
heading up and out now, from your rock island.
really good to have had you here with me.
and somewhere in the crowd i think i hear a young girl whisper:
“are you ever lonely, just like me?”