bottledWalter

Written: 3/27/01
Words: Walter Koning

One night I was wandering, ran across a man, blood on his hands, said it was from the common working man, I started running.

Turned around to see how far away I was, still saw the man, standing by a can, digging for his vitamins, I wondered who he was.

I ran back to this man by the can, looking for some scraps, he needed a nap, so I offered him my pack, it had a bit of spam.

Still needed a nap but kept digging for scraps.

I asked him of his name, right left one two, his fists weren’t my answer, went back in the ring for more, sir what’s your name, uppercut in the air.

He smelled of alcohol, I smelled his scraps, clothes worn threadbare, woolen hat on his head, teeth kind of yellow, more brown by my eyes.

I offered him my pack with the spam, hi jibba jabba’d help with these words “You’re in the game now.,” non-sequiter, out of place.

Hanging out with the drunk guy, saw the world in front of me, people looking my way until I look back in their eyes, look away, look ahead, avoid me.

I’m the old drunk guy with nothing, left alone to lose, digging for scraps, throwing punches at a fool, thinks he can help by giving up some crap.

Can’t get a job, ain’t got an address, can’t get a home, my boss is left over Oscar Meyer scraps, the suits in the oval offices have my name but don’t have the time.

Wearing dirty clothes, acting crazy, I get more tips, onlookers glad their souls ain’t in my shoes, they think I’m lazy, clench their lips.

Tried working 9 to 5, in an office overworked, took two hour lunches to get away, my boss chimed back with go away, now I’m just a stray.

Man what’s your name, maybe I can help.
Right, you’ll rob me like the rest.
I’m innocent, just trying to help, tell me what you need.

I need money, I need food, four walls and running water, I need a shower every day, brush my teeth so they don’t decay, it’ll help me get a job so they say.

I don’t like working anyway, tried it once, left after a day, my boss was a twenty something ladder climbing crony, reported to a manager addicted to making money, the owner was a slimy profit taking hypnotist, I wasn’t about to fall asleep to that crap.

Things have changed, there’s honest owners now.

So what am I to do? Can’t get a job, ain’t got an address, can’t get a home, my boss is left over Oscar Meyer scraps, the suits in the oval office have my name but don’t have the time.

Maybe I can help.

No way man they still play this game, they get scared when they see this blood on my hands, coming from the common working man, just like you they all start running as fast as they can.