Flash

Funneled
sun—

probing
like a
speculum
through alleys
darkly
glistening—

illuminates
a crumpled
man, recumbent,
pumping
streams of piss
across the
sidewalk like
umbilical cords
to the
gutter,

his empty
bottle
cast aside,
like a
bewildered
lover sucked
dry
in the murky
glower
of sagging
buildings—

imperceptible
avalanches—

tumbling
slower than
their windows
yawn,

slower
than their
shadows
shroud
his whiskered,
hoary,
toothless
maw.