He’s filthy
and he has
a bottle of vodka
and a greyhound.
His face is like
a bearded broken mirror
and his silver bitch
is magnificent.
When I look at him
I feel pity.
Pity for myself
that I have to be here,
with the soiled ones
who leer as I go
to buy bread
and cigarettes
even though I’m trying to quit.
Pity that I have live
amongst this shit
and look at gums
where teeth should be
and everything sounds
like a fight
whether it is or not.
He swigs from his vodka bottle,
looks at it
like I look at him
and we both shudder.
