wordle 88 The Enigma of the Tramp and the Commuters

 

Through thick and mostly thin
with rare highs and frequent lows
he trudged the city street,
head down against the cold.
The insistent  rapid steps
of  well-heeled travellers
seemed to mock the broken man,
resent his unkempt presence
in their world.

At the rustle of their  passing,
he clenched his fists,
hurled silent insults;
unspoken words burst in his head
until the spasm of rage subsided
into slow despondence.

He reached the spacious square,
bordered with plane trees –
his usual resting place –
spread his newspaper
carefully along the bench
beside the city fountain.

A crust of bread and cheese
softened and mumbled
in toothless mouth,
a scavenged fag-end lit,
savoured to  ultimate shred,
hawk, spit and cough achieved,
he contemplated the stressful lives
of the hurrying people
on their cattle-truck journey to slavery
and relished his freedom.

I have a feeling this might make a better short story than prose poem, but for now it will have to do. You will find a varied collection of responses to the wordle words at The Sunday Whirl  Also linked at The Imaginary Garden