There he was on the sidewalk,

Halloween pumpkin-toothed unshaven,

Swaddled in mismatched clothing, 

But his shoes were new. 

The language he uttered from a mouth missing teeth was foreign.

In my truck I tried to ignore him as he stood at the hood.

Demanding, repeating, over and over.

Maybe he will go away

He didn’t

Just short of pounding on the hood, he did not move.

“No” my voice echoed,

My head shook the word “no.”

I emerged from the womb of the car

The vagrant, the ghost of Mr. Booker from 10 years ago had come again only briefly.

Jesus said to give to one who asks you and from one who would borrow turn not away.

Lend, expecting nothing in return,

But I did not.

I turned away, again from God