by Michael L. Butkovich
By blurry vision I struggle in, sluggishly shuffling along the cracked crack city streets
and what I do witness’ there in seeing perils and wonders upon these very cracked city cracks
Easy Lizzy- crawling out her cardboard home in these early hours, time to retrieve what discarded bottles, cans and containers she can Pabst Blue Ribbon, a squished Hamm’s, a Schultz or two can bring a nickel or three even tossed water plastics can be made useful in being reused green glass-bottle of an original coke addition or its sinister sister of a Pepsi guarantees a shiny new dime there be no findings of sugar free on these streets, the greatest diet ever discovered is in surviving these very streets a week out here will do more wonders for your waistline than any keto paleo or gym could and Thin Lizzy will seek out what she can but if needs be, a four-finger discount can be had at most dollar store outlet
Couple of newbies taken to squatting on dead-Sally’s plot lucky they are, she not twelve hours cold new arrivals are fresh pickings tis the hard-way in learning the streets in time they’ll know their new concrete world, foot by foot fellow homeless are not all that bad after-all neighbors’ and foes can be found anywhere there be one or two taking advantage of them, but even in the bad there be lessons to learn in their journey -surviving in the hard land
Shopping Cart Johnny is stirring early scratching and clawing the empty air invisible UFOs endlessly attempt landings upon his face and head -so he said cold-turkey beginnings it be, best he grab a fix before he’s gone too far -too late in one Wally-World trip he can do well, we learn quick where the blind spots be his push-cart is filled as usual hot CD’s and a rare player cracked coffee mugs, torn-worn jackets, dogeared backpacks, and a textbook or two evidence of a night out at college town in that neck-of-the-woods, spoiled daddy & mommy kiddies have plastic bread each new semester the naive fishes leave us valuable pickings in shiny new Mercedes, Beemer’s and Porsches
Wisps of a fresh brew fills the air and it's accompanied by scent of biscuits and a no meat gravy Father Frank is here, one day early he be a nice change from a Sunday guaranteed no doubt as usual, a price tag of a sobering street sermon before you are served
Here be Tommy’s Trading Pawn, right next to Mel’s Metal Melts soon both will open wide to the hordes of homeless and what walking-zombies already queuing in the ready everyone cashing in bits of bits of questionable ownership shit -all found and gathered in the night only hours ago cheap scrap jewelry and mis-matched as they are you’ll find a watch or two, a rapper’s chain, maybe even a pink flamingo and a rusty kiddie bike or two -they take it all there at Tommy’s and Mel’s both overlook how new anything is Ten Ton Mitchel’s aluminum lawn chairs will be cashed in and even I’ll return me-self with a slightly warm mower and a garden-gnome or two everything and anything has a dollar value in zombie-land from a sour tongue and a bony bum of a young lads tail and soul
Cola-Shooting Sara has been learning fast she’s just discovered a shower of a forgotten spigot still working off the closed Sears building back-alley wall word will get out and we’ll all gather for a rare full wash down a mental note I make in a four-finger of an Irish Spring
Kitty Kat Kate -a true zombie has returned nine lives over OD-ing in three, an as many as four stints at the rehab that I know of she once turned a good trick or two, but now became too rigid for that like most of us she’s finds reality too frightfully real to deal with -a warning to you citizens there’s no escaping zombie-land once you’ve been zapped and expanded your mind
There goes Brother Magoo -coolest brother-man there be surely he’s found a fix in the night, evidence in holding that lamppost upright ten hours from now he’ll return -with words and tales of what he’s seen within his own mind
Canine crazies can be now heard, bin tipping in Chinatown the 24-hour take-out Chin Wan reheats real good, and chop-stick grub holds its flavor a long-time good but you must be fast or the street critters will swallow it all still there’s no partner like a rib showing puppy be worth their weight in handouts as no one can resist a starving mutt and even toto must earn his keep in the streets
Reaching my destination of 410 and Perrin Beitel, the working class rush hour has just began cardboard signs pop out, and the takens are good in reading: SPAIR CHAINGE & GOD BLISS cherry pickings come from the ones just pulling-out café Jim’s just walk right up to the driver’s window as they slurp their brew and donut nibble, your sunken filth mug will guarantee a donation and some will offer a sugar bun as well even the Local Locos know of our sweet spot here protect us they do for in what we take in, Le Jefe offers trade in our kind of sugar fixings
Little Father Juanito is here today a fixed staple he be, what with his mini 3 X 5, laminated and all he trained me himself when I first came to Z-land he’s so made here he has regulars scheduled for handouts every payday he’s just as good as any missionary daily mumblings of the gospel is a well-played gig of his
And there across the way is Chiquita Lolita giving it her all, in hardly anything to be called a dress in the daytime -much less at nighttime at 16 she knew more than any woman of 50 it’s 11 now and she’s already working it hard collecting all she can for an afternoon rock rocket ride she’ll have no time to bitch over the chafing and pain, besides -by number five the numbing is there to stay with pedicure toes and a smooth shave pits, SalmaHayek has nothing on this Chica Chick back alleys or under the bridge, in bushes and shrubs or in the 7-11 restroom makes no difference to her a twenty is a twenty no matter where or how hard it’s made
And I see me first bill of the day a waving fiver from a city pothole-worker creep he be, but like I always say a fiver is a fiver and for a spit-shine it’s not bad money on these streets seven or eight today… and late afternoon Sears shower will see me jetting off to slumberland… for in the end, I too must confess, I be just another slumped over walking dead -Vato making his way in zombie-land