Ochre pillow on the Balustrade
Pirate bearded homeless man offers me two latest editions in newsprint for half price.
His short ship of chrome and blackened wheels,
found thrown out objects in alley ways
On the edge of the park
there is an ochre polyester pillow on the balustrade.
Another derelict left it behind because of endless sleepless nights,
With no space at all.
Even the magpie coos sweetly in the thick foliage
warmth enough for comforts sake.
A lady in a white puffy coat
sweeps up the stray cigarette butts with her broom and pan.
A two hour vanity plate and hair like an alarmed fanned lizard face.
On this stretch
there is no fix for the chance takers to no one's plan.
hobbling drunk towards a fruitless destiny
with a dented psyche.
Fat bovine fumes
exit kitchen blowers.
As three street chancers rip open
plastic garbage bags like jiffy pop
out of a restaurant garbage bin.
Reveling in the illusive fumes as they remove all
the fat from the bones.
Francis A Willey January 28th 2010