Aging street punk sits on the sidewalk on a grate, on his jacket or a dirty rag.

Hard to tell. I've seen him before most days

Familiar stranger, more stranger than familiar

He's playing with a rat. He smiles at the rat.

The rat walks up and down his arms

The rat knows his part. The rat plays along.

The rat is sleek and healthy and clean.

Rats are fastidious that way.

Seems like a pet rat not a street rat.

Street punk and pet rat. I haven't seen the rat before.

And a crunch! And the punk's face loses the smile.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Why?"

That is what I think is behind his expression.

Laughter. A couple, the woman has stepped on a beer can.

Half a can, ripped in half, with a few coins inside.

The can, half a can, and maybe the rat were the punk's means of production.

She looks back, a moments conversation and she knows

And she returns and apologizes And talks with the punk.

I try not to stare, and I go into the Spar and buy my beer.

And when I come out the can is restored.

Maybe it is a new half beer can.

Empty beer cans are a renewable resource.

I give him a Euro fifty.

And look at his rat for a moment.

He says thank you.

Sunday Sept 28, 2014, by the MuseumsQuartier U2, Spar, at Getreidmarkt and Babenbergerstraße