Its faded pink parka, Stretched tight across its shoulders Even in the summer twilight, Crinkles, stale newspapers and plastic bags Cacophony with the rhythmic Thud of shopping cart wheels.
Its rotten malt liquor stench-- Astringent ammonia sweat Runs in rancid rivulets down Decaying skin on decaying face. Pimples and pus and ****-notched teeth.
It offers a drink In exchange for change. My pockets jangle noisily, But I offer only empty hands.