my main man

his life
revolves around a dying
sun.
just yesterday
he was t-boned in an intersection
while drinking
a bunker
of Michelob light
from a frosted
mug.
last week his probation
ended
for malicious wounding
in a bar fight,
a misunderstanding
of political views
was how he put it.
but the recent eviction
and the sudden
move
to a shelter
are all just temporary
set backs, he says,
smiling showing
a jagged keyboard
of teeth,
then asks if you have
a cigarette, or a match.
when you see him,
he seems happy
as his legs sink
into the slow quicksand
hole he lives in.