Dear man on the bench,
I see you; I walk past you daily and when you aren’t there I wonder if you’re okay. Dear man sitting on the bench near my job, how did you get there? I want to know your story, but I’m not sure how to ask. You never ask for anything, not food or money. You just sit there with your bags and layers of clothing even in the summer time. Sometimes you have friends, some I can see others I can’t, but that doesn’t matter because you are there having a full conversation with someone. As I walk past you, with my headphones blaring and steady stride, I wonder what you’re thinking. You are out there every morning just sitting as droves of people whom didn’t even notice how beautiful the morning is, rush past you trying to make it into their building before 8am.
Then again, maybe you don’t want anything, and I am the one projecting my guilt onto you. I’m not quite sure, but before I leave this town let’s talk, even if it’s only for a brief moment. Maybe I’m just wondering if you see me too.
Three women going through life.