A man with his canteen
sits and sips;
a morning paper
as he anticipates
the bright day that follows
the clenched fist agony
and delicate dabbing
of his next glorious
bowel movement.

With any luck,
he’s not forgotten
his hemorrhoid cream
in the back pocket
of his cross body satchel.

I eat my half Florentine
in peace
after he and his canteen
leave behind his mess;
a two dollar tip,
an empty cup,
and morning paper,
left outstretched.

written on 06/13/2014 by: Matt Kane