The warm air brings them out of hibernation.
Ambling, limping, riding, carousing, hustling,
I see them out of the darkness.
Beer bellies, sunken bellies, pregnant bellies.
Stained shirts and tattered pants cover up layers of dirt,
while red-rimmed eyes squint into the light.
They sniff the air, reassuring themselves spring has come.
Searching for food in the dumpster, begging outside the 7-11,
they are hungry, having been holed up in hibernation.
I see them in the glaring light of spring.
Slurring. Screaming. Sweating. Swearing. Swinging.
How close can I get before they stand tall and roar?
How far away should I stand?