A Poem from Janet Cannon's  Poetry Room at IsleWrite.com

on the way to work

adjacent to the scaly
skinned not so old
alcohol filled man

i've seen before here
sheltered from his bowery
bedroom sidewalk clearing

his phlegm loaded throat
roaring like the number six

train rolling into spring
street station his spittle
blob settles crudely next
to my artless shoe too

early to be qualmish quickly
i move down the platform

Poem by  Janet Cannon