Nobody Poem by Mark Heathcote

Propped up on his crutches outside
The Night and Day Café a beggar
A homeless man doubled over,
After I was listening to Robert Francis sing
Cadging my fags leans towards me.

… Nobody, I can easily stereotype, nobody
Says he's sorry for bothering me
Tells me he's got no toes, they all froze
I got frostbite sleeping rough one time.
I asked to see, and he promptly obliged.

And shortly-thereafter barefoot, he smiled.
To him, it was like a war wound,
A badge of honour that legitimised
His emboldened approaches, head-on
We passed pleasantries, and he shuffled on.