Sad. Old. Man.
With a scar
Above his left eyebrow.
“Why are you alone for the holidays? ”
His eyes squint.
“My son is a heroin user.
I gave him a black eye.
Wife kicked me out.”
He’s drinking coffee
From a paper-cup.
A thin dribble
Of the liquid,
Of his mouth.
Combines with dried spittle.
Creating a stain.
“He gave me this.”
“Two years ago.
Wife let him back into the house.”
The coffee is gone.
He wipes the stain
Onto his shirt sleeve.
He won’t stop talking
About the people
He left behind.
And the scar
A.j. Binash's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Affordable Seclusion by A.j. Binash )
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