He slept the dream of ethanol <br />and when he woke, his battered soul <br />was in a mood too foul to bear <br />as vomit stuck in his gray hair. <br />There in the gutter where he lay <br />in awe of yet another day. <br /> <br />By-passers did what they have done <br />for generations. People run <br />from something seemingly askew <br />they all have better things to do. <br /> <br />Two blood-shot eyes, deprived of care <br />can, if required, beat the glare <br />of solar early morning bragging <br />as purple bags, resigned to sagging <br />do complement this alley bum <br />there, in the gutter with his rum. <br /> <br />She stepped, fresh ginger in her heels, <br />around the Salvos' stern appeals, <br />took two crisp banknotes from her purse <br />when from the sidewalk came a curse. <br /> <br />Blue eyes hop-skipped onto the ground <br />to find the voice that made this sound. <br />Much static electricity <br />now filled the air for all to see. <br /> <br />His eyes were locked onto her breasts <br />like horny, uninvited guests. <br />To break the atmosphere of shame <br />she held the note out 'what's your name? ' <br /> <br />He answered, spitting as he spoke <br />'My girl, you have observed I'm broke. <br />But all the rum in old Spokane <br />has not destroyed my inner man.' <br /> <br />And then, it fell, like dandruff flakes <br />from deep blue eyes and long-lost aches: <br />This unkempt bum, red-eyed and sad <br />now held her hand. 'I am your DAD.'<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dad-2/
