Self Portrait

I grew up next to the town dump.
It was my playground, much cooler
than a swimming pool
(though there was always
the dam across the road, if you
felt that way inclined). I found
treasures in what others
threw away. The only trick
was evading the rats
and the yokels who’d hunt them
after downing a slab of DB.

At a friend’s birthday party
his mother stood before me
when everyone else went inside
to eat. ‘We don’t allow
your kind in the house,’
she said. His sister brought
out a disposable plate
with a saveloy and seven chips.
I said thank you and sat
in the garden. I fed the chips
to the sparrows.