Rich — Part 1

Rich

It was early November when I first saw him
standing at the edge of the sidewalk.
He was a bigger man,
but I couldn’t tell if it was his weight or
the layers of thick, dirty clothes
wrapped tightly around his body.

He walked up and down the sidewalk
on the main road I drove everyday to get to school.
I watched him, only his hands and face
peeking out of his dingy green coat,
and wondered where he was going
or what he was thinking about.

One day as I drove home from school
I saw him perched on the bench in front of the public library.
I stopped and introduced myself. His name is Rich,
and he hadn’t eaten lunch that day.
So I gave him a sandwich and some water
and a book to keep him from getting bored.

The temperature started to drop in January
to 30, then 20, then 10. I lie awake in bed
worrying about Rich. Praying to a God
I don’t even believe in that he was some place warm.
A whole week of frigid weather I drove
to and from school, checking both sides of the street,

but he was gone.

Just when I had gotten used to the street
without him on it, I saw out of the corner of my eye
the old, green coat pacing up and down the sidewalk,
and I almost slammed on the brakes
and got out of the car to hug him,
but I sighed in relief, and just kept driving.