STINKY BREATH poem

Stinky Breath

knows all about living
and learnin’ from the streets
doesn’t matter
where

could be any
number of towns on a map
made for smellin’ good
folks.

Bottle in hand
he tries to park away from the chill
clothes packed carefully
in layers
can’t afford to store them
in some stranger’s
place
might not like his choice
of name brands. Ha.

Soon time to shake off the dust
and hope the cooties
he’s carryin’
don’t make a scene
at least until he’s through
the door of
Sally Ann’s tonight
a warm snooze on his mind.

He’s a man a father
and still a child of the King.

© 2009 Richard L. Provencher