A Bitter Brew

Outside, there is a small trail and six steps separating me from those that pass on by, Impossible, to hide, behind my ruby house coat and synthetic flavoured... bitterly savoured, morning coffee An old man walks by, paced, in slow - rhythmic strides in order to balance three bags his aluminum collection Toes, emerging from the tips of his tattered shoes, As he spies me we engage in observations He is courteous, as he desists, lowers, his head in his travels, continues to descend down the hill around the corner of my house, heat scorching This morning, all I can hope for Is that he does not rip my garbage apart.