WASTREL
People who don't know me think of that
and call me names. I don't really care.
They are chaff, to my wind. In my first
life, the one with the vast and mannered
estate, I handled so many things. Now,
as payback, I can do so little at all. I am
poor like a ground-in bedbug. I sleep, in
fact, in my clothes, under piers and bridges,
wherever I can find a dry spot to be. The
only real grand gesture I've ever seen was
that girl, thinking no one was around, peeing
by herself, from a crouch, on the sand while
all around her, elsewhere, was water.
Why foul the sea, I guess.
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