I barely know much about him,
Just another homeless man
I give my aluminum cans (minus the pop)
"Where's Wallace?"
Got Glad bags full of tin
Look for his shopping carts
If you connect the dots
Within its circumference
You may find him
in the shade
Or sleeping on the lawn
Outside the closed apartment gates
Or between the carnaceria's walls
Alley cat black
A good guy at that...

He's one of many
The growing crew of indigents
Nothing new to city streets
I met the semi permanent fixtures
The regulars that camp out
Here on the boulevard, near the Strip
Know them by name
But barely know who they are
I try not to get that close

Because you know what they say
You feed one pigeon
They all flock at once,
And Hitchcock's horrors are
My own,
Nowadays when it's a luxury
To have a home,
Mine is precarious
We all protect our own,
That's what they say...

Wallace mostly dives alone
In the darkness of night
Or the end of days
When they throw away the food
Rules of expiration dates

With what I give, it's always fresh,
Perishable even for microwaves
Those convenient stores that let him in
But he's burnt most bridges
With his angry mouth
"****** it up" dropping F bombs
Even half asleep
I barely understand him
But I begin to when his wife
Visits the prison of his concrete streets
Brings him the warmth from home
Her petite loyalty bigger than any shame
I notice that she doesn't notice
The looks of blame
From the eyes of disapproving
Bigots and creeps

Wallace becomes someone else
As they sit together
It's more than just being fed
It's an intimate meal.
(there's tenderness I see)

I couldn't come near to understand
How and why he lives
This way, under this desert city's iron sky,
What a fool he is for romancing the night
Collecting minutiae treasure
All with broken worth
A vagabond crusade with the finger to the world,

I can only hope for the best
I have no opinion

But should he decide  
To wake up or realize
Such folly of a life
I say, it's better to grow and get old
Together with his wife

But then again
I barely know much about Wally
Or how the streets are calling

Away untoward
Those nights that're howling
These streets he's prowling
Much ado about

Wally.