Cold morning, in a public men's room
The warmth settling like haze

I was loitering
Dirty, lonely, hungry

The sycamores were bare
The street almost empty

A dog followed
A trash cart

My right hand slipped in
Through the hidden hole of my pants pocket

I was imagining with a hungry heart
One to love like a flame, in a public men's room

Light sliced in like a painful knife
And made the mud ahead blaze