Water Man –

His life and times, a bootleg life.
Getting up, going out, same thing again, with Mandy.
A cracker biscuit and spring water pellet spray outs his lips, a spitting concern for the state of the World he’s in.
Mandy holds his left hand, he prefers the right, he won’t complain, Mandy could leave, for a better man with cleaner water and a lack of woe.
His real name, forgotten, has a Nom-De-Plume for everyday use, on special occasions, attached brother’s better Confirmation name to own nomenclature’s middle components for interesting letter and word length; attention.
He doesn’t have far to walk, with Mandy, collecting welfare while still alive is a geographic close-call.
There’s a tree outside the ‘Home’ window, but a violent animal endangers his hands on any window-lean, usurping his courage to pick its fruit, can’t type his singular arboretum, missing possibility of edibility.
He thinks of setting the animal on fire with a Zippo, allowing closer inspection of aphids seen, eventual species recognition, seed pots, a further tree-lined street offering more ripened fruit, all the good consequences of getting carried away.
Pollution will kill that tree in the end, chemicals bite water supply to death, death to trees, death to water.
His Green Group grouping with fourteen plastic chairs, seven plastic chairs, four plastic chairs, then him, Mandy and a man named ‘Walter’, niche environmentalism with zealous early investment.
A padlocked Troika stuck to a Chemical Works railings, drawing attention and a deficit in disorder.
He suits Martyrdom, a release from Mandy-ridden welfare walks, she, now the ‘Released’ one through collegiate chastisement for personal Blues.
The jammed-up infractions of society’s waste-land held up proceedings before his courting began.
His lawyer’s tongue was drying-out, he offered him some spring water from a deep Well, and a Lawyer was gladdened, cried-out at this valiant concern, his judge and jury wept with shared passion, he was a ‘Hero’ in damp boots and a torn raincoat.
His eulogy was short, came after the penalties of Purity’s suspicions; Witches drown in deep water.

This entry was posted in poem, poetry, prose, poet, creative writing, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Water Man –

  1. Barry Comer says:

    “geographic close call”… love it. Would you write my eulogy if I go first?

    Liked by 1 person

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