Bob
He’s a guy no-one’s met but everyone knows
He pees on the side walk right by my home.
He shuffles down town, rollie in hand
and stops every five to light up again.
He’s a flannelette shirt with dried paint blots
and elasticless trackys with sandles and socks.
He’s an attitude issue, careless and cranky
An emphysemic cough into a week old hanky
He’s piss coloured stubble and filthy toilet smells
He mutters in stubbies and whistles at girls.
People pity Bob, spread rumers and stir
He shows he cares little as he flips them the bird.
He’s a guy no-one’s met, he’s happy that way
You can see it as he shuffles, still choofin’ away.
