I was smoking a cigarette
Outside of that bar
Where we first met
And I came across a
Couple of people who were
On the down and out

As I did my inhale/exhale thing
We started conversing about
No- and every- thing
And I could see in their eyes
How much love they each contained

When my smoke finally turned to butt
I had to contemplate
Just how, when, why, and what
Made them feel this way

Then I stepped back inside
To grab my beer
After I shook their hands
And said, “Thank you dear
For showing me what it means
To love someone
More than anything.”

And the humility in his voice
As he thanked me
For a twenty dollar bill
Made my heart feel heavy
And the corners of my eyes wet

When I got back to my stool
I sat and wondered about who
Could ever feel about me that way

Could you love me if my pockets
Were as empty
As my clothes were dirty
But my soul was clean?
Would you still call me friend
If my home were a tent in a park
And I always smelled
Of exhaust and gasoline
From the corner that I call my office?

I finished myself another drink
Or three
Thinking all night ‘til it was
Time to leave
About whether I could ever
Be as strong as them

When I left
They weren’t in the parking lot
So I hopped in my car
And when I got home
I couldn’t help but
Cry myself to sleep

Could you love me
If everything I had fit in a backpack
And I bathed with baby wipes
Underneath the interstate?

Would you still call me friend
If all I had to offer
Was a smile with missing teeth
A look in my eye
And a sad story?