Sunday, March 6, 2011

A Poem About A Man I Saw Sitting On A Bucket, Eating Church's Chicken.

Old man sitting by the road on a bucket.
Yelling at the world and telling it to suck it.

Homeless and nameless and crazyness stricken.
His only joy in the world is eating Church's Chicken.

In some ways he's better off than both you and me.
His only concern is that bucket, and in that regard, he is free.