What he wanted -- it wasn't much, really.
He was lonely, aching to feel welcome . . .
somewhere.
He just wanted a little conversation,
a "hello," a "thinking of you," a "how are ya'?"
The people down the road, though,
they were real busy.
Lots of yard work to do, some haulin', some liftin' --
"Gotta' work, gotta' work hard, pressure -- ya' know? --
gotta' make things comfortable."
Sure, he thought. Sure. They gotta' get comfortable.
"Comfortable" -- real important thing.
He wasn't comfortable.
No matter what angle he adjusted his chair on that porch,
no one came.
They'd see him, ya' know? They'd wave.
He'd wave back.
Charity really fills a body up inside,
don't it?
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