4481. I AM DONE WITH A SMATTERING

I AM DONE WITH A SMATTERING
At the corner now of Carlisle and Roache,
in a distant, strange town, a place so few know,
I am huddled by grace with a cigarette and a bottle.
I've not spoken to anyone for days - thankfully
these short, June nights can bring me some justice
beneath the bridges nearby. It passes, and by morning
I awaken and find something to eat and to do. The
money I gather is enough sometimes for coffee; I
can't believe the price of even that now. Everything
these days seems a scam - is it not hot water?
-
Had I an account, I'd hold up that bank - Chemung
Savings and Loan, or whatever they call it now. A
richer-man's building than I'd ever see, it stands with
a guard at the door worth more than me. Oh God,
how'd I ever reach this pass?
-
Nothing's ever left when nothing's ever left.
I can die of exposure, but it's no longer December.
I guess then I'll make it through these finest of days.