12. Another Way Of Putting It

He lies out there
face down on the sidewalk
blubbering like some
pathetic
stage clown.

He's a grown man,
a drunken man,
and I am looking down
on the two police officers
who are looking down
on this maudlin
performance.

They're tied up now,
when all they wanted to do was drop him
at the shelter for the night.

He's wailing, can't walk under his own steam,
and he's not making sense
so, they have to wait
for an ambulance now.

One of the cops says,
"stand up !" , and I hear his frustration,
but he keeps a lid on it while
I am struggling to do the same -
the guy is very, very loud -
and I'm just a gawker in
the window.

I feel no pity for him -
only annoyance,
the way you might feel about a guy
trying to write a poem who
uses the word  "longing"
too damn
many
times.