Pennies

There is a liquid suspended in the puffy bags
Under his eyes a soft squishy pouch
That can bleed open at any time
As he reads to the gathering audience
Never letting you stare for too long
The cardboard verses piled up front
And longer works—for serious clients
Stacked at the back of his guitar case
Sponging up the stench of urine
Glowing in a bright orange T-shirt
A flame in the long leering night
A famous attraction in the country’s capital
Stamping his name on each rhyme
In order to stay afloat or as he claims
Treading Water
On the canal he glides like a talisman
Returning from each pilgrimage
To find his cup half-empty
Only pennies
People line up for his autograph
Crazzy Dave is absorbed in a romance novel
His face and mind steaming with mock ardour