B NEG

Both laid supine,
I could see his holey shoes.
They’re a bit worn, he said,
but I haven’t had time to replace them.
And I thought:
What sort of a man
would lead himself so low
that he couldn’t afford the time
to fix himself up?

How could he be out,
about,
seen in such disarray?
What could make him
embarrass himself so
to be seen
in such shitty shoes?

And I pondered:
Perhaps there are extenuating circumstances.
Perhaps there is some reason
that his physical appearance
is irrelevant to this man.
Perhaps he is poor
and must prioritize differently.
Perhaps his hours and days
are so devoted to such small
sad irrelevancies
that shoe-purchasing time
cannot be budgeted.

And I wondered:
so why is he here
at this blood bank
donating?
Is it court-ordered,
as it is for me?

Then I thought no more
for they took too much B Neg
and I passed out.
When I was slapped back
into consciousness,
he was gone
along with his holey shoes.