Man with the stories

I was working a bum job

for the city

which meant cheap

apartments and

drinking from the

bottle or in

reverse

and every swollen morning

the man with the rickety

trolley would wave

from his alley and say

You’re gonna see it soon

and I’d smile or if

I was still drunk

light a smoke

and then one morning

just as he said it

for the thousandth or so

time

a little momma ran out

from some poor broken home

and happily lifted her skirt

and aimed herself at me

giggling like a child

I laughed then turned

to the man with

all the stories

and by god

he was laughing

too.