Homeless
The lawyer
who could eat your lunch
ate his quickly
on a cold outdoor bench,
when a revealing breeze
introduced the pungent odor
of his new neighbor.
The steely-haired vagrant’s
rumpled visage
acknowledged by
a right honorable disdain,
he quickly opined
one loses the ability
to sense one’s own stench
after days of pissing.
He wondered about
days in his cruel world,
full of encounters
with untrustworthy adversaries,
manipulative lies to get needed cash,
cutthroat tactics and
rummaging through receptacles
of worthless papers.
And he imagined what the
dreary evening’s routine
must be like --
riding the last Metro,
shuffling into his shelter,
getting quietly buzzed,
and not hearing from the family
who gave up on him
a long time ago.
On the emptied park bench
a rather cheerful transient
grabbed food scraps left by the lawyer who,
after a well-considered reflection,
seemed very much
alone.
Copyright © Rhys Matthew | Year Posted 2011
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