He sits there in the dust, scratching his boils.
A Job-like figure, apart from the smell.
But maybe Job smelt, too.
I give him two pounds
And pass on quickly.
How did he come to this?
A victim of Care in the Community?
Or booze?
Or a seeker after freedom,
Breaking out from the rat-race,
To live in a rats’ nest under the floorboards?
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