04 November 2010


Pungency 11/3

His handlebars are wound with a pink feather boa
and he washes himself in the sinks at the café on Union

He smiles a lot and you see the bike more often
then you see him

The homeless smell like clothes stained with coffee
left to stale in the bottom of a closet

Like everyone smells when they first get out of bed
all hot breath and crusty eyes

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