People stepped over the body
thinking he was just sleeping it off
(whatever it was)
until he’d been there for days
and stinking worse than the neighborhood.
That’s when they called the cops.
They figured he didn’t deserve rescue.
But if he could only be moved.
Besides, the crows had been taking a
long and interested look at his corpse.
Everything smelled like piss.
Exposed innards was the last thing
folks wanted to see from their windows.
He was loaded onto a stretcher,
dumped in the back of a van.
No scene of a crime.
No yellow tape.
No outline drawing of the corpse
out there on the sidewalk
outside the adult bookstore.
People stepped over where he’d fallen
as if he’d never been there.
It was their turn to sleep it off.
By John Grey