I come out the door...

I come out the door through the warmth into the fallen day.
Cold wind hits my face.
Cold words hit my ears.
My eyes sting.
My ears hurt.
Harsh language from a calloused friend floats on the wind.
Empty words.
I am tired of hearing it.
A city bus roars by, empty of passengers.
It tries to gain speed on a flat street.
Black smoke curls in the air behind it like a dragon exhaling charcoal fumes.
Equally empty cars, like schools of mindless fish, zoom past and around the vacant bus.
They are too many in number and are in a hurry to be nowhere.
A tattered man, younger than he looks, sits huddled in a doorway.
He looks at no one, yet sees life clearer than most.
I avoid him.
His poverty might be contagious.
I go shopping with money I should not spend.
I do what I want and try not to think about it.