Wolfman

had the old musty smell of damp fur
as he prowled the shopping precinct,
nosing in waste bins for scraps
of some lost life

or leftovers to build a future,
circling round the shoppers
in thick black overcoat
that seemed like skin

rubbed raw by the years
and sleeping rough.
Once I bought him a drink
and he crushed my hand

in his callused black paw,
a fiery light burned briefly
behind his eyes
then gutted
and he released me.

Enough said.