Outside the building

In a continuous setting,
presenting a smile
stuffed with juicy fruit
gum and rotting teeth.
The old man would greet
him every morning outside his office.
The young man without
intention
had vaguely wondered if the old
man had once been
self adhesive
or perhaps even reliant.
Reluctantly, the young man had created this
stiff tradition,
mellowed, only slightly, by the elongated
shape he'd place in the aging bum's hand.
An appeasement, Cash, to ease the
guilt, to purchase food, or
the old man's temporary means of escape.
He unnerved the young man, this soot-coated
reflection, he wished he'd disappear.
He was an uncomfortable reminder,
that life seldom
goes as planned.