He’s not as hungry tonight as he usually is
Maybe it’s the cold greasy chicken

Or perhaps the sloppily prepared potatoes
Suddenly he starts speaking, words as hard as his bread
And I realize I was dead wrong
Hunger tonight is not so easily satisfied
I hear of state championships and winning baskets
Crossing goal lines in front of screaming cheerleaders
And how the lights must have shone one the field
And how dim and quiet it was in the aftermath
I wondered how many times has he replayed this
Long forgotten glory etched in his crumbling spirit
And wished for the noise but only hearing deafening silence
For a moment, his eyes betray sparks of fiery passion
That even cold food and blanketless nights cannot extinguish.