Kurt

Finish my paper work after a long day at work/
I try to put on my jacket without disturbing the sleeves of my shirt/
Out onto Walnut and through the P&L/
KC's no heaven but sure isnt hell/
so i cut over 13th and stop at Grand for an italian sausage at the hotdog stand/
4 bucks for a creepy dog seems a little steep 
but something about street vendors makes me love the city/
north on Grand is where i devour this mystery meat/
pull my jacket hood up to cover my headphones and be discreet/
11th to 7th can be kinda gritty/
and folks around here can seem somewhat seedy/
I stop off at Grand Slam to grab hotdogs for the men/
who sit under the bridge and think “what happened to them”/
Lawrence and Carl were no where to be found/
the usual place for all the guys and no one was around/
Searching the other spots and come up with nothing/
Not on Grand, Wyandotte, Walnut or Main/ 
praying to God " What do I do now? Whatever you got for me is fine" 
and he sends me to the bridge at highway 9/ 
Continue down the concrete hill/staying aware/
conditions are less than fair./ 
In the crawl space under the highway is a flicker of candle light/"
Hello? My name is Brandon. I've got some hotdogs here" i say, though my throat was tight./ "Brandon? are you my son?"/
Already wondering if I should run./
It’s too late to go/ I say "Sorry, no." / 
He scoots a milk crate my way "Ah, well have a seat"/
I sit down and offer this gas station feast/ 
He told me his story. His name was Kurt,
meanwhile sipping a half gallon to cover his hurt. 
Ex-cabinet maker with an ex-wife and an ex-military son 
wondering where all the time has gone. 
Four months he's spent under this bridge/
being a man on the fringe/ 
of society alone with the fight against sobriety/
all that kurt has are blankets and two cats/
white spy and black spy are the only ones he feels love from/
and perhaps a little when the Uplift folks come/
but after an hour long conversation/ 
about life, history and failed options/
I realized that food is not what Kurt was needing/ 
but it was his soul that needed feeding.
Shivering cold with my wife awaiting my arrival/
I couldn’t stop thinking about Kurt’s survival/ 
“God loves you Kurt” he’s heard it before 
“But I care about you man, wish I could do more” 
Kurt looked at me and said “I know that God loves me and I see that you care, 
but If you really want to do something, just dont disappear.” /
We said our goodbyes and I went home/
to my world of cable, heating, and my cell phone/ 
three days later I planned my return/ 
Thoughts of what to say continued to churn/
Grand Slam chili to feed Kurt and to feed me/
but when I arrived Black Spy and White Spy were the only ones to greet me/ 
Left the food and went home/
hoping the cats weren’t left behind alone/ 
I would leave food from time to time/ 
I pray it was Kurt that came to find/ 
one day I stopped by hoping to catch him about/ 
but the city had come and cleaned his space out/ 

Dear Lord, I pray for Kurt/ I pray that he knows that I cared/
but more so, I hope knows your love and that you’ll never disappear.