Back Alley

Behind the dumpster
in a fort made of broken appliances
and crumbled cardboard boxes,
a man on hands and knees
searching for something...
A contact lens, a missing tooth,
a crumb of food, perhaps,
or maybe a speck of hope.

Kneeling in his own shit,
he doesn't care about the stench by now.
He can't smell much of anything anymore.
His drunken face drowns in a pool
of freshly spewed vomit.
A cough, a moan, and a faint mumble:
"Fuck the world..."

Misery loves company,
and this man is his own crowd