A Bitter Brew

Written by: Angie Mae

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.