Empty Handed

A reflection of myself

I hurt a poor man for no reason at all.
I was looking for something to eat at the mall.
I was buying some candy, a Whatchamacallit,
extracting a five dollar bill from my wallet,
when out of nowhere this man strolls up beside me.
He's watching the cashier get change for the five.
I can smell something pungent, more sour than sweet,
and I know the poor man hasn't showered in weeks.
His silver hair's mangled, with unmatching shoes.
His white t-shirt is stained with his own sweat and booze.
My patience now running considerably shorter,
invading my space. the man begs for a quarter.
I turn, and I'm looking straight into his eyes.
I can see that his fear has left him paralized.
I say "Why in the hell should I give you a quarter?"
"I know god damned well that you'll go to the store
just to buy some more liquer." I'm fuming inside
till I see his reaction: He's starting to cry.
My whole world comes apart as I suddenly see
that this poor drunken man's a reflection of me.

A memory forms in the back of my mind:
My alarm going off, it's now quarter to nine.
As my head starts to pound, I get up off the floor.
I'm still covered in vomit from two nights before.
I am trying to move, my feet won't seem to let me.
I reach for the bottle, god damn it, it's empty.
I'm starting to panic, I'm now wide awake
and the vodka is gone so I'm starting to shake.
Now I'm cursing myself, for there's just one conclusion:
I humble myself or stay lost in delusion.
My money is gone, one last card left to play.
I am changing my clothes. My decision is made.
I have run out of vodka. I must get some more.
I will walk, I will run, even crawl to the store.
I don't have any money. I'll sit by the door,
I will swallow my pride,"Can I please have a quarter."

The poor man has turned, he is walking away
when I realize I still have something to say.
Even after he's gone, the aroma still lingers,
some kids laughing at him while pointing their fingers.
I quickly approach him and tap on his shoulder.
His tears make him look like he's twenty years older.
I'm trying to speak, yet my words aren't in order.
I reach in my pocket and pull out a quarter.
He seems to see through me, this man understands,
and he smiles as I'm putting the coin in his hand.

I ended up walking that man to the store.
I bought him a bottle and walked out the door...
empty handed.