Not Waiting for Godot but the Next Step to Fall

By Earle Thompson

Popeye wheeled his chair
out the shelter door
In the bar he heard
and smiled
Mutt and Jeff the dynamic duo
in blue. He wondered did Mutt die;
Popeye's last change had been poured out
on the street.
At the stop light—waiting
for his drink.

Tomorrow—or the next
he will get his
new leg.