Man in the brown jacket

There are razor blades in his pockets,i'm sure
For he needs to shave the brightness off
of the circular glow
above the lamposts at night,
It has been years and that jacket has not had
enough pockets to shed
as the man has had years climbing his spine
There are ways in which i miscalculate
his presence in my life,and then there are the ways
he lives by

It is discomforting to walk around in the evening
without him flanking the alleys
with that brown ghost like visage

just as it would be, to have
gravestones with no bodies to put under them,
but that is just another miscalculation