the man in the grey car

you say hello
to the old man who sleeps
in his car
outside his house,
you pass him everyday
going home.
the window half cranked
down.
you see the sweat on his
dark brow
as his bald head leans
against the window.
the radio on.
he nods and holds
up a hand,
he seems to be hardly
breathing in his sweat
box of a car.
you want to ask him why,
why are you sitting in
your car alone
on such a hot day. at
least turn the engine on
and let the ac blow.
but you say nothing.
he says nothing.
you leave each other
alone, which is really
what you both want.