Nobody Man

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He is walking past our window again,
the nondescript man.
His step full of purpose,
head bowed to the tiles
on the sidewalk moving
away under his feet.
He is carrying a tote bag,
empty.
Or is it full,
as he coming
back from the store?

He is always
lonely, lost, alone.
His step determined
towards an uncertain goal.
Out, to the town,
in, going home.

He is passing our window again,
hands on his back,
head bowed.

He sees nobody,
knows nobody,
speaks to nobody.

Who is he?