Wandering Among the Dumpsters

He was wandering among

The dumpsters where the

Heat crept

Through the streets...

In a beatific sort of daze

He was

Determined to retreat

Behind the places where sunlight

Glimmered, and stole in from

Cracks and slots...

His body moved at a slower

Frequency,

So he communed with

What was not;

At least in the sense of the

Red blooded,

And their predilection

To judge, gestate, and deny...

Always shaking crooked fingers

At the Howler in the sky...

He was wandering among

The dumpsters with a heaping

Hand of ash...

He has ashes of

The bridges burnt

Securely in bandana,

And he was praying that the plot

Would twist...

Though his mind was in Valhalla

That we can't afford to go to...

No, it ain't Cali or Miami...

Nothing you saw on TV....

You would have to be there

To understand...

Best to forget it, and continue...

Fuck off back home if you

Can't hang...

This is his story...

It's not yours, although

Perhaps you can relate...

He was wandering among

The dumpsters where the

Heat crept

Through the streets...

In a beatific sort of daze

He was

Determined to retreat

Behind the places where sunlight

Glimmered, and stole in from

Cracks and slots...

Will he find it,

Or keep wandering?...

Or is his recycled plot

Just an echo of the past that's being

Broadcast back your way?...

You seem fixated on his quick descent,

Though as for virtue

You couldn't say...

Best to keep both your lips pursed,

Until your speaking from the heart...

He was wandering among

The dumpsters while

You peered from your

Dodge Dart...

Bunny Villaire

6/7/23

Edit #3

Thanks Joseph Kempster Deakins

For first line of poem inspiration.