The cold wind

The wind blows hard tonight,
It's a cold, damp, disturbing wind,
And I think about,
Below,
By the gutters,
The men on the street.
I hope some of them have,
At least,
A bottle that's warm.

It's when you're on the street,
That you notice,
EVERYTHING

EVERYTHING
Is owned,
And there are locks on,
EVERYTHING.
This is the way a democracy works.

You get what you can,
Try to keep that,
And add to it,
If possible.
Until possible.

This is the way a dictatorship works too,
Once they either enslave,
Or destroy their
Derelicts.

A newspaper flaps by.

With time,
We just forget the men below.

In either case,
Tonight,
It's a hard, cold,
Wind.