Where is he now?

Where is he now?

The dirt-faced man

With the scrubby beard

Worn grey from exposure

Thick as wire

Entwined in nasal hair

Spotted with sauce from

A bacon sandwich too salty

For everyone's taste

He smoked roll-ups unfiltered

Made from reclaimed tobacco

Enjoyed sitting by the sea

Surrounded by carrier bags

Recycled cans are collectables now

10 cents for every single one.

He would sleep on a bench

Off the main drag

Under the verandah of an office space

It is fenced in now

To keep him out

Where did he go then?

Walking man

With the floppy sandals

Toes so black

It looked like gangrene

Had set in

He had a ripe smell

Too rich for some

It was probably why

They fenced him out

But he had a lived-in smile

Broken toothed

A wholesome grin

Lopsided, due to a fight

With a broken glass

Attached to a virtuous soul

Not everybody understood

His decision to live on the street

Sleeping under the stars

Drinking the dregs from

Castaway coffee

Communing with nature

Behind the Frangipani

On the foreshore

Not a few steps from the conveniences

Few knew why he didn’t

Step inside

Claustrophobia he said

Dropped on his head as a baby

Couldn’t be housebound

It reminded him of hospital wards

Iraq

Straight jackets and Largactil

Forced injections

Of medicinal compound

Bromide to prevent him

From reaching Nirvana

Which he used to say

Was the only place to be

It was somewhere out there

Over the horizon

Guarded by sea nymphs and a Hydra

With its nine heads

And nine-inch nails

He was a daydreamer

A bluesy-eyed boy

Too young to grow up

Not a beach bum

With a comb-over

Rastafarian hairstyle

Inappropriately inked-up

Like an Islander

Where is he now I wonder?