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Stains of Dignity

 
As I left the train in Inverness station
a tall thin man walked up from the exit doors.
Asked me if I had a pound. Gave no reason. Like staring at the sun,
he blinked quick and stared.
I asked him his name and he said Jasper.
Jasper? Yeah, Jasper. Told him I knew a Jasper once. He said yeah?
I said, yeah: he was a junkie, got his skull kicked in.

He had a warmer complexion than me.
Like the homeless, he had no tact, but they don't need it;
they're already conditioned and swallowed.
People don't go to hell then lie. Jasper was a liar,
but he could see as I looked on him that there's no point.

He had hope and steam so I dropped three pounds
in his quick hand, to help him dribble to the gutter
so he can bounce back an honest man one day
or not at all not the window, but transparency;
beg or answer. He said thank you, and I'm not sure he meant it.
Written by MrAlptraum (Mr A)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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