FredPeyer

Fuck this Live

He is propped up against a small wall

His legs splayed across the sidewalk

Like beached dolphins

Some drops of red wine

Stuck in his scraggly beard

Liquid rubies

One hand holding the paper bag

The bag holding the bottle

The other clamped possessively

Onto the remnants of a rucksack

Ostensibly containing what is left of

His worldly possessions

“Fuck this life”, he says

And takes another swig from the bottle

People passing step gingerly over

Or around his legs

Careful not to touch

Not looking not caring

Afraid to be contaminated with

The alcoholism virus

The homeless person disease

And be sucked themselves

Into the quicksand of

Hopelessness and despair

Afraid of losing their dignity

To second-hand clothes

Horrified to be reduced to

A bundle of rags inhabiting

The sidewalk and talking to

A nearly empty bottle.