Barefoot standing in the rain he was
darker than the night
juggling three oranges
smiling to those who came fast
in colourful metal shells.
Standing in the rain he was afraid
of the metal shells and those inside
who could feed him or hurt him
or worse: pretend he didn't exist.
Just a shadow of a man.
In the rain he was afraid of
sleeping and getting sick again
under the dirty noisy bridge
sniffling glue to live one more day
like a cockroach between garbage.
He was afraid of dying
without anybody noticing it
under the dirty noisy bridge
crushed down by glue-wanters or
police-bat-holders or himself.
Barefoot standing in the rain he was
darker than the night
juggling three oranges
smiling to those who had to halt
on the red traffic sign.
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