Billy

a man with grey eyes and long grey hair
wears an earring I'd swear was made of pop-top rings; Billy
blesses me, as I bag his groceries - "You look good, kid."
he's the scarecrow, and the tin man too
loose-limbed, corroded joints, long necked and bony.
he smells of dirty linens, walks like he sleeps on the floor -
he's too long in the spine for anything short of
a queen. And he may well know the needle, or the bottle,
or both; may well dream dreams that are greasy and dark.

But his eyes are full of light and air; full of seas he may have seen.
He says he comes from Houston - big storms there recently. For sure
he's got some miles on him, and some distance in him.
Straight as a rail, he walks all the way home
with his one-bag-full
"Yes, ma'am" he says with a wink, when I say
Take care.