Conversation with a rough sleeper
What a fantastic day!
Astride my bike on top of Box Hill, a blazing sun in sky so blue, a nip in the air it’s true but with bursting lungs and hope in my heart
All’s well with the world.
What a shitty night!
The ground so cold, my fingers are numb and I can’t think straight, my mind is so dumb. Why does no one think to ask
What’s up with the world?
Down the hill, with a wonderful view, I sweep through lanes, not a care in the world. The leaves on the trees with autumnal hue
My heart soars on high.
I can’t sit here, they’ll move me on, I’ll plod round the town till I find a spot to squat and stare at passers-by
My heart sinks to my boots.
Towards Epsom Town, past the RAC, a gin and tonic in the clubhouse bar? Perhaps next time I pass this way.
No harm in drink on a beautiful day.
Past Pirie’s Bar and the Anchor Tap, the pain in my gut gives a lurching leap; thank God for the kids who throw a can
To see me through this bloody day.
Down in the square I choose a place to enjoy a drink and a bite to eat. I use my phone to find a train to return me back
To my blissful home.
I sit in pain on a wall of stone, and look at geezers as they wander by; will they, or won’t they toss some food
To lift me out of this bleeding mood?
I must get back, catch up on the chat; there’s Brexit, and the election news, so important to know as soon as we can
Which way the big money is going.
Brexit? Who gives a fuck; whoever wins won’t put food on my plate. And as for the election, I ain’t got no vote and if I did
Who would care what I might think?
With Christmas approaching, two moods fight their corners; all the presents to buy, and the food and the wine, but at its heart
There’s the family and love.
Christmas? Family? Love?
What are they?