Chinatown in the Rain

Here's a poem for today ...
Unseeing eyes look out from a death mask
as an ancient Chinese woman
holds out her empty hand expectantly
... when I was hungry you fed me.
Smelling of subway, drink and filth
his hand -- 22 going on 90 --
thrusts storefront trinkets into a tattered coat
stealing a living
... when I was in prison you came to me.
Sirens scream past
hollow eyes follow the path
from boarding room windows
each pair to its own pane
... when I was alone you comforted me.
And arm in arm we walk to our car,
and check first to see
if the stereo is still there.