Well groomed at his perch
in a coffee shop where the cost
of a table is a cup of soylent black,
the narcissist brags to admirers he pays
no rent, no grocery bills, no taxes
An indigent, he sleeps in an extra-long van
he bought for peanuts at a repo auction,
dines at churches, dresses at Salvation Army,
showers and shaves at The Y
His coffee klatch cheers at stories of travels
on hundred-foot yachts as a gigolo or somebody’s pal,
suns, swims, whores and gambles on the come line
from the Caymans to Vanuatu
Just a pilgrim is all, a vagabond and free spirit,
unchained, a man on his own, dodging the usual drill
and the guardians of the gold
The café junkies nod and laugh not knowing
they traded him a coffee for the con of the day
and the total of his life at the bottom of their tab