Fuzzy Head

Hard Times

Outside in the Summer's rage

He decends out of nowhere tumbling down an embankment

Crowding the dust where he lands

Like he's strung out on something.

A tenant of the streets who carries his home with him.

He wants a certain amount of impunity

For pride and secret miles of former days.


He is tall and very slim almost toothless from neglect.

He has no interest in life at all.

Hot head, heart pounding, cold hands, fire in his vocal cords,

The breath of desperation

Hides danger in noxious air

The poisonous breath of sin provoking evil.

His face is beaming.

He is here to take a stand

With a voice from between clinched teeth,

Full of static; jittery.

He is broke and is looking for his shady friends he lent money to.

Needs a bunch in a clip

To pay his debts.

Life is but a span of ever present perils.

His friends are rude

To his dignity.

A knock at his heart would reach into his soul to strengthen him.

He may flinch a bit

And tip-toe as if embarrassed but he will enter a calmer mood

And probably leave a knowing smirk.

Children milling around.

One boy stirs, a little girl flees

Others sit like pigeons along the street curb

With their eyes blinking.

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