above the cloud line, below the street line

dozing passenger rolling slow down main street
for this moment the gap has closed 
between my dreams and my world
your voice abuzz in my ear
with tales of a tent home above the cloud line
surveying slope, elk and bee
in the misty morning 
where you’d be content to die
your trusted lover behind hanging the clothes 
and the golden headlights through 80’s alley fog 
in my mind match just right somehow

but i lift my head and open my eyes
to see as we pass the steam from the nose
of an old itinerant man walking down the shoulder 
bearded and bundled against -5
completely failed and cast off by his country
he will die tonight as likely as not
blessed not with a death of green belonging