• I am the a guy who's at a corner of a busy night life street, It's been a memory since my last meal and it shows, I smell foul, for I have not bathed in weeks. The alley a few steps from me is my home. It is also the home of a lost dog that I share what little food I can find or beg for. I think that's why that mongrel stays. I sit on a dirty five gallon bucket. I'm sure I've used it to relive myself in it a few time, for it reeks of it, but it's the only thing I have to sit on. I sit with a sign I wrote, with the only possession I have a clean black marker. A black Sharpie to be exact, a permenant marker, and for as many months as I have been here it still contains ink. It is my only tool,I sit on my bucket, with this sign, "will write U a Poem for a penny" and to this day no poems I have written.