Mumbles Stumbles Along
No one’s sure
what caused his voice
to shift and slur, the result of a
boating accident some ask,
or perhaps a weakness
homeless men inherit.
His take today quite low, only three
cigarette butts by the curbs
treats from passers-by
in a hurry, late for somewhere
places to go, things to do
but he’s in no rush, neither is he shy
about his unwashed state
nor unshaven face, yet hungry enough
to snitch something else from
Sobey’s grocery store
caught twice, needs to survive.
I watch him approaching me
closing in on my space
bringing the smell of his failings.
Coward that I am I flee the scene, an
ample tummy leading the way.
© 2009 Richard L. Provencher
Comments
Nathan Bednarek | October 9, 2009 - 23:32
'bringing the smell of his failings.'
A very powerful line. The poem reads flawlessly. Well done.
Nathan.
Richard L. Prov... | October 10, 2009 - 03:08
Nathan, thank you. I had the delight of working for 22 years in a variety of social service positions and am now rekindling those memories and bringing them into words. I had some powerful moments in the past and present. Just think of all the exciting moments in life which await you, too. All the best, Richard
Richard L. Prov... | October 10, 2009 - 03:09
Richard L. Provencher