-Sonnet 001-
-Kris Armstrong

Bums ask me for money;
Around a corner, in a niche;
A prostitute says "C'mere honey."
Shoving her away I say "Back off, bitch."
Abandoned buildings with broken glass;
A drunk emerges with his bottle in hand;
He stumbles, falls and lands on his ass;
Music blast my ears from a rock-n-roll band;
I turn and enter the pub;
A guy at the end of the bar boasts 'bout skipping bail;
He turns to me and says "How 'bout a beer, bub?"
Yes to the beer; we talk-he's eager to get some tail.
I leave, thanking him for the beer;
"Stupid idiot", I thought, "Do I look like a queer?"