he makes another day

he's near the end.

he's dark,
the color of wet leather.

he can hardly get up from the floor,
or get down again.

brush in his hand.

weary, his eyes yellow.
his breath warm
and foul.

a pack of luckys in his pocket.
a can
of beer
waiting for him
at the end of the day.

he talks of another round of chemo.

talks of linda.
how he might be in love with her.

he talks about making love to her.
he's dreaming.

he talks about his son in prison.
the hundred dollars
he gave him
for the commissary. he's

day dreaming.
he's dragging, but wants to keep
at it.

keep working. what else is there
to do.
so I let him.

he makes I through another day
and I drop him
off in the rain
at the shelter.