The Yearning

You look up;
and there's no one there, there never was;
it was a night walker,
a dead,
dead man
and it sent a shiver
down and up your body.

He walks all the way down
to a pier
and stares at the boatlights passing
(and remains at Charon's apathy)-

and for a second you pass and see a shimmer
of what used to be a man.

He has the whitest eyes,
that only see the future and the past,
that glaze for you,
when you press a penny in his cup.

He shrugs his coat about him
and shuffles off
before you can begin to process
the cold.