Wino's Epitaph

His hair was matted

His teeth were yellow

And Lord his breath it stank

From the food he ate at the flophouse

And the rot gut wine he drank.

He slept in the alleys

He lived on the street

He prowled through garbage cans.

His face unshaven, his hands unwashed

and he wore no wedding band.

For 51 years in the US of A

He lived as an object of shame

Known by the tattoo on his left forearm

But no one remembered his name.

He died one morning, a week before Christmas

In an alley, alone in the rain

This message scratched on a cardboard shroud

His last request explained.

Perhaps someday in a medical school

My body can be used

Let them dissect me, and set me free

From this flesh I have abused.

God help us all.