Gutter Slave

I am what’s known as a ‘sidewalk gutter-slave’.

I am kept permanently confined, face upwards, beneath a grille on the sidewalk, and am thus compelled to look up at the dirty shoe and bootsoles of my betters as they go about their daily business.

Most of the good people who walk over me are either blissfully unaware of my presence, or they just don’t care. I am therefore, for the most part, studiously ignored throughout the day and night, although I do occasionally get one or two disparaging and/or mocking glances directed down towards me though the bars of the grille.

I in no way resent the good people who walk over me throughout the day and night and in all weathers, for I rely on the dirt and detritus from the bottoms of their shoes for sustenance. Indeed, without their shoedirt, I would probably die of hunger – so I am eternally grateful to them for taking the time out of their busy schedules to walk over my grille.

I am also grateful to the elements, for providing me with dirty rainwater to drink.