The Ugly Little Man
The Ugly Little Man
The ugly little man, whose name is hard to say,
pushes styro-cartons and discarded
cigarette butts with his useless broom
into the mindless gutter
where they disappear like light
sucked into a black hole.
The ugly little man has not bathed nor shaved
for three Prime Ministers and does
not know their names but knows
the names of all the shopkeepers
on this half-naked street
as he dances his morning song.
I am ashamed to say I cannot look
at the ugly little man and casually pass him,
giving wide berth, clutching my change
so as not to pocket_jingle
the merry soul and greet my lover
at the relieved corner.
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