Begging for Change

I emptied my pockets this morning 

for a man on the corner

with a cardboard story. 

I didn't know him, 

but I can bet that we share a few chapters: 

nights spent hollowing out bottles 

searching for messages at the bottom. 

They are in there somewhere,

if you look hard enough. 

Maybe it says 

I'm sorry. 

I could be wrong, of course. 

He could be nothing like me. 

Maybe I'll never know what it is to be 

homeless, 

but I know what it is to lose a home- 

to beg for compassion and second chances.

I gave him everything I had.