Squirming like the maggots she found
At the bottom of the trash can.
Bald head that would be shiny
But his skin was too filthy.
His stubble cuts her skin,
Thin lines of blood around her mouth, cheeks, neck.
The stench off of him, his coffee breath mixed with alcohol,
Leftover from yesterday,
Her nose numb by this point,
Not grown accustomed to it but rather
Why don’t you watch where you’re going, man?
Originally Published on www.bandersnatch.ca Vol.49 Issue 12 on April 1st, 2020