Glasses In The Glove Box

Your quiet calm manner around a table of racket

The brightness in your eyes as I greet you

I desire to bring comfort and relief

Your belly aches

Your eyes make for hard reading

Yay! You got your glasses

You cry

I cry

Where did you go?

"Dear God, please lead me"

I walk around with little clues

I know what they said but I know what I feel

All the radars in my senses are going off

I know you are there

I doubt for a moment and take a different approach

Trust and obey I hear God say

I head for the trail

I feel no fear

I pray

I expect to find you

Is that you Victor?

"How did you ever find me here?" You say

"It was God", was all I can reply.

I dream about you and wake up in prayer

My dream is realized

I see you drunk

I judge you not

You look me in the eye

"You think you can save me? You think you can get me off the street?", you scream.

Your hand reaches out towards me and slowly turns into a fist

A spilt second fear comes

I clasp your fist and hold it

My home is your home

You try, but I can tell you're uncomfortable

Taking you back to the street is hard

Your glasses are in the glove box

We can't find you

I find you at the benches

You jump in the car

You open the glove box and pull out your glasses

You trust me

You are comfortable

I understand you

You tell me you don't think you can
survive another winter

Weeks go by....

I dream about you

Days pass

He was killed

He was killed for the shoes on his feet

In Memory Victor Cruz