he watches them

near the park bench
where the old man lives,
along with a host of doves
and a squirrel or two,
rush the lives of the mobile alone,
the fast-tracked desperates.

he watches them quietly from afar,
finishes his bottle of brown-paper port
and anticipates the arrival of the cops
who will send him on his way.
this is his human contact.

he doesn't judge them, but marvels;
what wretched lives they live!


4/26/1991