the empty hand

a man
comes up to you
in the street
he is
your father
your brother
your son.
he's a stranger
to you
he's everyone.
his empty hand
is your hand
his open
mouth holds your
teeth
your tongue.
he wears
your shoes,
your hat.
he finds a way
inside you
with his
lonliness, his
lack of
love, his
freedom from
possessions.
you could give
him everything,
or nothing
and it wouldn't
matter
he would find
a way back to
being where
he is.