Call me Abe

I am a wanderer
an invisible man
an urban wayfarer
a nomadic wraith.
 
In search of solitude
my feet pad stealthily
down tarmac pathways
and concrete wilderness.
 
My private places are  
little known hideaways
lurking behind parades
and shopping complexes
where Wasteaway bin herds
stand unconcerned stoic –
waterhole buffalo.
 
Containers of cast off
food and sometimes shop spoiled
goods I can fence for fags
or bottles of cider
wait to be uncovered.
 
I have my private cave
of Machpelah – a corpse
was found there – Sarah –
another rough sleeper.
We were kind of lovers
sharing our sleeping bags sometimes,
right behind Home Bargains.
 
They say Sarah haunts it
so nobody kips there
excepting me – I sleep soundly.
I’m not superstitious.
 
I like telling Sarah
what I have been up to
since last time we chatted –
bikes I nicked, shops I robbed,
the odd drunkard I mugged.
 
Try to say sorry
for the crap batch of ket.
I sold her that killed her.
She does not seem to mind,
 
in the wind I can hear,
‘No worries – not your fault,
it’s all part and parcel.’
I don’t believe that though –
she was a lying cow.
 
Only Spice for me now –  
a nice cool easy hit
deal some, smoke some,
pass out snug under my archway –
Home Bargains, Next, then me.
 
One day I won’t wake up,
that will be the day that
I’ll see Sarah again.
If she ain’t in heaven
she’ll be dead mad at me.
 

© coolhermit 2020
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Pronto

A philosophical look at the seamy side of life. God spare us from that cave of acceptance of the negative. Excellent write, Cool.

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