Red Bull Breakfast by Debbie Smith

Red Bull Breakfast

Eight bars around the block—soon to be nine

Abandoned Saturday morning—this street of mine

One lifeless body in a stairwell heap—the hooded one then sat up in a slump

and guzzled his third Red Bull—for breakfast.

He doubles over, head down to his knees, recoiling after each sip of adrenaline.

Did his week end very badly—or did his habit make him an offer he could not

refuse? Was that him, leaning on a wall last night, waiting for a ride that never

came?

Friday night’s omen was set with a parking lot brawl and an ambulance crawl

after dog walker denizens and town bell ringers.

The hooded dude took a whizz and walked between the bricks…to obscurity

—unto the morning-after abyss