Mountains (Poetry)

Three tramps lay down
With their faces pressed up
Against the pavement, backs
Jutting up into the rain
Like mountains covered
In seagull shit. "Why?"
Muttered the first,
His lips barely moving
Against a thin vial of liquor;
No-one answered. No-one
At all. A thin man - dressed
In an expensive three piece
Suit - strode past the
Mountains and sniggered.