by Krystal Greene

Created on: May 15, 2009

Far From Home

Sitting on a throne of last week's headlines,

he extends his frail arm-

a rotten pine's broken branch.

The black rain from uptown scurries around him.

A river of cups and papers funnel into the gutter at his right.

In his hand, a dirty cup of desperation.

Invisible to locals,

neon rodent to tourists.

Every shallow breath

flavored with mid-day traffic and whiskey.

Skin, a dirty leather canvas-

society's masterpiece.

His evening wine eyes

emerged from a shadowy canyon.

Lost.

Drunk with decay and misfortune

he nods off

to the city lullaby.

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