A jagged smile pokes out of his pruned lips
He flicks ash off his cigarette
Carries his leash so the council won’t bother him
Dean’s the name
The ignorant or afraid call him a misfit
A drunk and no good
But Dean loves his dog
His girlfriend
And his drink
Maybe too much
He just likes to have a chat
Outside Woolies and through the town
He’ll walk with you and talk
Leaving behind him a trail of ash
A stench of wine
He’s a misfit to many
But to his dog
He’s just Dean
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