there’s a hungry man waiting under the chicken-on-the-way sign. he’s got his eye on a 5-piece snack box, fries and coleslaw combo. there’s nothing finer than hot greasy chicken on a summer day.
there’s a hungry man waiting under the chicken-on-the-way sign. he’s got his eye on a 5-piece snack box, nothing finer than a box of hot summer day. no money. dried up like the mud on the riverbank, embedded with debris from the flood. branches, tires, bits of insulation. styrofoam coolers.
there’s a hungry man waiting under the chicken-on-the-way sign. he’s got his eye. nothing finer, summer day. no money. dried up like mud. the riverbank, his home, washed away. debris surrounds his former resting place, a concrete bunker under the 14th street bridge. he watched the river from under the bridge supports. the water rising, rising.
there’s a hungry man waiting. he’s got his eye. he’s washed away. debris marks his resting place. he’s rising.