the streetlight glared at the dirty sidewalk

dried-out puke on the curb

air conditioners s p i t

from fourth floor window ledges

down ancient chipped

graffiti-covered brick

caked with grime

smell of piss

round the corner in the alley

mixed with scents of stale smoke

flat beer

& sour grease-coated garbage cans

nestled in the glass of broken liquor bottles

& cigarette butts

crushed cardboard boxes

f i r s t

I saw the tip of his lit snipe

he was sitting on an old ratty

corn-colored couch cushion

propped up against the side of a dumpster

& as soon as he saw me

notice him

he farted

& I laughed

“hey, hank . . .

where the fuck you been, man?”