Calendar With No Date

he turns over
on the doorstep
of an invisible alley....

his puke stained collar
greets the morning sun.
he focuses his eyes,

sets his jaw, and stands up.
the beeper of the trash truck
bounces off his mind.

fumbling for a cigarette,
his last, he lights up...
kicks the empty bottle aside.

squinting at the sun,
too early for the soup kitchen....
a patrol car passes, going slow.

the memory of a lifetime
bitter in his desert mouth...
just another day, calendar

with no date!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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