INVISIBLE MAN-By Patrice Matthews

He has no one to love him.
He has nowhere to feel he belongs.
He lies on the cold park bench shielded by newspaper quilts.
As I comfortably stare behind the car glass
I notice his physique.
Statuesque, black, napped hair, yellowing teeth...
Seems to be in his late twenties give or take some years.
I wonder to myself what the world must look like through his eyes.
Begging from the lady who's conversing on her mobile, woman in a business suit and smile.
He must feel so insignificant.
This brotha once had a life far different from now.
He probably had his first kiss around the same age that I did, probably cried as hard as I did when his heart was broken too,
probably laughed at jokes, danced,
bled when he was wounded...
The rain begins to drizzle now.
I can see the crystal beads clinging to his matted hair.
People rush past under umbrellas to busy to halt or care and behind that glass
I see him.
Look him straight in the eyes,
and gaze at my brotha's soul reflecting a touching pain that I can't bare to see much more.
He sees me staring at him.
He's looking straight toward me
noticing me notice the invisible.
So as I unlock the car door
stepping into his realm and place the twenty in his hand,
I know he can tell it.
I now understand.