(no subject)

First saw him on the street in front, in the bar's garbage, identifying unfinished beers and swigging off what was left of them, shameless and exuberant, remarking in friendly fashion "It's a doggy dog world." Charming error. He had little idea of his looks caught on a brief sill between youthful lean times and blowziness to come, and too unfocused to try hustling more than beer and a night out of the rain. Later, circling vaguely the bar's deep dark inside, "Hitched up from New Orleans," he said, "Here, wanna feel it?" It was already out pushed soft into my hand. It was a lovely gift to offer an old stranger              without conditions, a present from New Orleans in a doggy dog world.                           --Thom Gunn