he stumbles around, wandering
from bench to bench,
scouring the ground for secondhand cigs;
not an average chipper; but a
full on dilettante of the nicotine game
(all he needs is one drag).
the cigarette is secondary to his main
passion: alcohol; he’ll take any kind
from anyone with any flavor.
he’s not picky like some other homeless
people; he’s a full-blown sot.
fishing through the garbage
sifting through and through
for a bottle with a drip remaining
or enough change to purchase
the cheapest bottle of vodka.
ironically, the alcohol and cigs
didn’t kill him; it was a fucking
squirrel trying to dig-up his nut,
but the drunkard faced the wrath
of a mammal looking for his nut.
he should’ve known better;
male mammals will do anything
to crack that shell.