The Drunk

I see him on days As I walk from school Weighted with books + facts + insecurities Feet moving to the rhythms in my head A thousand songs Illustrating the world in slabs of impressionist paint And then he is there Jerky movements invading my mind Shouted expletives aimed not at the crowd That shies from this desperate drunk But at unknown enemies That he fells with a frantic blow He topples Rises Falls again The sane wrinkle their noses And he is gone Just another madman Another drunk Another dreg Scum, trash, refuse Suffocating society Nothing lingers but the stench of his fear Not alcohol Nor cloying smoke that haunts my soul Just whispered warnings to secret friends Move along Move along Scream a thousand songs There is nothing left to see