ACID BELCHES
The hot gas rises in my throat
and I release a belch
like the bleat of a goat.
The wages of sin;
coffee on an empty stomach.
The bums in my doorway,
the constant whine
of spare change
has my shorts in a knot.
Why are they here;
is there a sign over my head
saying, "See this sucker
for drug money?"
I'm tempted to kick ass
most of them are able bodied
but addicted, and stupid.
Jobs go begging
jobs even they could do
a small amount of sweat
but the whine
I'm hungry
spare change
is all I get.
Perhaps
this is the origin
of an acid stomach.
Whose children are these
washed up at my door
the product of random fuck
with a stupid whore?
One wonders if any
are worth saving.
Or are they just the visual
evidence
of several misplaced
random incidents?
Time to put my laundry in,
and think about
my stomach's
sin.
And re run the gauntlet
of hoochie coochers
and spare change moochers.
Another pill to
squelch
yet another
boiling
acid belch.