a old smell, a relaxed far off look

Cleaned out, showing the ignored bottom
flashy and new, and reflective
but maybe it's his mind, different voices
and the stutter step and hobble along
he skips personalities like gym class
there could be four or more
tucked into the corner of his mouth
like a mother bird feeding them all
and it's not anyones fault
but he shivers under the cinched black hood
mumbling, maybe a cigarette helps
as the night lifts from the ground up
into the blue stain of the tall buildings
soft yellow lighting, car horns engines sound
nobody kisses leathery skin
says how beautiful, not like the character
of a worn down chair, as fondness grows
there is no aesthetic attached
no assisted living mona lisa
refreshed he stutter steps resumes his walk
around the corner out of sight