A bag of cans he poured into his cagy chest of drawers
But this chest bore no drawers at all in its frame of 2' x 4'.
A woolen scarf, a holy hat and fingertipless gloves
Such joy found in a leftover slice of pepperoni love.
I thought of what I know as cold, entering my heated car
As he laid next to the laundry vent adjacent to the bar.
For him, they'll pour no drinks; they'll serve no greasy BLT
Just puddle splash and crumpled cash are the offerings he sees.
He'll save enough for smokes and booze and maybe just one taste
Of that which certainly got him here, which made him such a waste.
Forgoing rent and every cent on crack can't hurt no one
Especially if you consider being homeless lots of fun.
3 comments:
You've officially entered SEVERE
EASY...go easy fella. I'm merely exercising my poetic muscle.
that gaydar is great. your piece entitled "scrambled eggs" is your best work to date. really good writing and insightful humor. a pleasure to read. i sound like a comment on a book jacket. i'll try to get up there all star weekend gee.
-ponch
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