He bends and places a bottle of booze On the ground. Dirty pants sag To expose a white, resigned bum. He sits his fat body down. When I come back round the same corner A woman drops a coin Into his blackened hands. The alcohol is Half-drunk. "Spare change?" he looks up, Not at me But into the distance beyond, His eyes, red, with vague rage. I move away, ashamed But frightened, and his voice Retreats, before being swallowed up In another draught of memory and pain.