He puts the raven into ravenous
Black wings of slicked back hair
Flapping leather coat
(He's seen The Matrix far too many times)
The bulge beneath his arm is not a gun
But a doggy bag, concealed
He would eat the crumb in crumbled
Shirt creased like a sliced white loaf
Crusty polyester trews
(Not seen a laundry for the longest time)
The stains upon his hand are not from cordite
But a Happy Meal, discarded
