Old man Savarese
walks his battered dog
beneath the wistful grace of
early morning light.
Cigarette dangles from his lips
reminiscent of his sailor's youth,
his age-worn face set
in a toothless grimace.
Old man Savarese
his spine made wayward
grappling with demons,
his eyes fixed downward,
moves within the air
of his own ceaseless mutterings,
curses the life
from which he dangles
and the dog that
is his only solace.
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