First thing he did
After losing his job
Take pocket change
And buy cheap bottle
Of red wine
On the street
From some guy
With large trench coat
Holding several without labels.
At least he had smiled.
Sat on a bench
Staring at it
Trying to beat down
Memories of that
Last talk with shift foreman
Awkward, fingers tapping
On the table in the Lunch Room.
Reasons not understandable.
Took long draughts
Til it was gone
And he stretched
Out on park bench.
His locker satchel beneath.
Sleep took the place
Of any stressful plans
For what’s next.
Night held the best of June
Cool, dry, intimate,
strangely.
Cops were elsewhere.
Later would come
That talk with Chester
And Diane his partner
Of recent weeks.
News of the Tent City
Where other “losers”
Found solace, shelter and
Modicum of respect, understanding.
He would try it out.
Victoria at Weber Street.
Next to Via Rail station.
Commuters passing
Snubbing their noses.
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