He dragged a rag each day along the street.
A bit tipsy but in his element.
Amidst this braggy crowd a smile so sweet.
In high spirits though shoulders - a bit bent.
He carried our used and unwanted load -
empty plastic bottles, half eaten food.
He roamed the neighbourhood, knew every road.
He was no stranger but the stray dogs shooed.
He knew every soul, and each soul knew him
yet a few nodded but many ignored.
We are of a class that is trim and prim.
While he the parasite making inroads.
We indulge, litter, find ways to amuse.
We refuse to acknowledge our refuse.
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