Most Nights

He sits alone on the street car most nights,
Rides in the back speaking incoherently to himself.

People snicker and laugh.

Unsure of where he's going,
but coming from the same place you did.

A mother sits at home worrying about her son,
he used to ride a bicycle and suck on popsicles on hot summer days.
He used to cry when he scraped his knee.

Now he sits alone on the street car most nights,
arguing with himself and threatening to kick his own ass.

People pass weird looks back and forth and shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Not so long ago he was just like you.
He tasted the warm lips of a lover and
made love until the sun came up.

Now he sits alone most nights.