Virtue crawls through his beard like
lice, an apt accessory to the branches
and banana peels in his composting biz.
My man! Reducing methane emissions
is just one sign of his beneficence.
Was a time we’d call him a know-it-all;
now we just eye him biking by, his
bins filled with rot, his smile a smirk.
I tend to hold a grudge till the eagle grins:
Dropped a buck once to an old teeter on a grate
and Mr. Man says, “You shouldn’t give them
money. There are better ways to give.
He’ll just spend it on booze.”
I said. Stopped at the corner packie,
procured a pint, sat down on the sidewalk
by my new dawg and shot the shit ’til dawn.