And then there was

there was a twisted man
in the streets today
with a long face
and joints that buckled
the wrong way
he had a jumbled tongue
and a lurch
that forced people to
skip and dodge past
when he approached
cap in hand

then there was the still,
upright man who didn't
even have a cap, only
a crumpled paper bag
he stood like a wall, the
colour of stone
his shuffling feet a
fairytale in the 
imagination of the people
who slid by

and then there was
the manic man who
stood, nodding delightedly
on the street corner
with arms outstretched
he giggled and bawled
to the cars and buses
indifferently busy
on their way to somewhere
while he chattered and
bubbled to the cold
winter air,
his brain as crossed
as the checks on
his tattered jacket
his thought as wide
as his smile

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