MUMBLES AND STUMBLES ALONG poem

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