5 Minutes on E. Baltimore St.


He wore
his decomposing rags,
plastic bag socks,
hole bearing boots,
his thickly matted, tree-bark-of-a-beard,
skin of sun burnt leather,
and all the dirt between it,
stagnant fetor,
his three crushed menthols,
his stolen watch,
his fathomless, resonant eyes,
with pride; for he possessed utter freedom,
unchained
to routine,
obligation,
and the universe that
swirled around him.

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