I had to laugh. My father had been living in his car
ever since his drinking drove his wife to throw him out.
He told me that the night before, after he'd left the bar,
he drove himself into an empty lot he knew about.
He said, " I fell asleep but woke up when I thought I heard
a sound, sat up and looked around, but it was quiet and dark.
I couldn't read my watch, because my eyes were crossed and blurred,
so I tugged on the lights. Not ten feet from my hood, a stark
and shocking sight met with and startled my disbelieving brain.
A vagrant guy in full hunch, with trousers down and fleshy butt
so white and bare, was mid poop. His face was winced, as if in pain,
and when he looked my way, his eyes were wide and wild. I shut
my eyes when he bolted. That hairy crack, with pants down hopping,
is seared into my memory!" Sure, it was funny to hear,
but later when I recalled this yarn, what sent me flopping
in my wheelchair, was thinking what the shock and fear
the poor guy must have felt, when high beams blasted him from
whatever toiletary reverie he entertained from his squat.
That's a story I suspect will not get told! Every street bum
knows there isn't glory getting busted when he has to trot!