he was sittin’ over there in the corner chair…drinkin’ coffee…slurpin’ it loudly…speakin’ some kinda Tex Mex language…bits and pieces of English would stick out…mumblin’…really…it was incoherent…but I knew where he was comin’ from…

it was some kinda heartache…he’d point to the ceilin’…maybe he meant to tell the sky…I don’t know…but there’d be a shout every once in awhile…some kinda yell…like he was callin’ for a soul…a ghost to come and visit him…couldn’t help but notice…he had on this black leather vest with a white tee-shirt underneath…tattoos up and down his arms…one of ’em said Loco…inside of a red heart…had a green teardrop below his eye…

and I chose not to stare at him…real wiry…probably could’ve done some damage in a fight…all that black hair with a cowboy hat sittin’ on top of his head…every once in awhile he’d doze off…then he’d point to the ceilin’ and yell out again…waitresses didn’t know what to do…manager I think was scared of him…scared of this short Mexican with tattoos…I say he was short…shorter than me…

but there was this one little blonde kid that kept lookin’ at him…she’d point at him and laugh…giggle…momma tried to get her to stop…it was no use…he saw her pointin’…he saw her…didn’t do anything…just slurp his coffee…talk in Spanglish….or some kinda foriegn language…he didn’t do no harm…no sir…talked to no-one but himself…wonder if he was lonely…

after awhile he stood up and dusted himself off…ran his fingers over his thick moustache…and walked outta there in silence…just as quiet as you could be…didn’t tip his hat to no-one…just walked out…gone…

is that the man you’re lookin’ for…