The Grace of God
This is not my poem.
I stole it from a tramp.
I lured him out of his
fetid, cardboard lair,
with a can of Tenants Super
ready opened.
Peeled the greasy
paper scrap,
from the side of his
face as he drank.
Rubbed it free
of dirt on my jeans,
as I walked away
from the slobbering wreck.
And I sold it
to Faber & Faber,
for five hundred
English pounds.
Went back to the
filthy man-den,
but the tramp was out
walking the streets in a stupor.
So I left the 4 pack
of Tenants I had brought,
in his cardboard and
newspaper nest.
Then I went and bought
a Nintendo Gamecube
from Toys R Us,
and some games.