James was his first name but we christened him ‘Jackfruit’

Conked out in our toothless neighbour’s laundry room, until he had to scoot

Penniless and homeless, Jackfruit was going back to sleeping rough

Seeing him pack up brought me great sadness, offered our garage knew he had it tough

The pauper beamed and kept stuttering his thanks; he couldn’t believe his luck

Transferred his stuff to the man cave, sung ‘The Piano Man’ he’s out of the ruck

His new ‘palace’ offered a table, working lightbulb, and lockup door for privacy

He bathed inside, thanks to a handy tap just sidestepped the late Mr T

For over thirty years, that oldie made complaints; may his soul rest in peace

A bucket of aqua and a bar of soap were enough no need for four-star amenities

His cousin, a wealthy and seasoned builder, looks down on him

Has a phobia for homeless blokes whose situations were so grim

In the garage, he left his motorbike, chic and modern

Later, with the scooter damaged, my stomach churned

I told Jackfruit that I didn’t touch it said he trusted me no need to explain

Who would ruin the peasant’s wheels? ‘These sadists’ are inhumane

He put on a tee and kept on scratching

Replaced it but guess what? Same problem, after five tops, he was fuming

A neighbour passed by; I told Jackfruit not to approach him but he stopped heeding

‘Mate, my tees are all itchy.’

‘Sorry to hear about that, matey.’

Reminiscent of ‘The Itchy and Scratchy Show’, yet he retained his neck, hair, and ears

Some critters don’t have arms and legs be grateful, no tears!

My room’s door acted up and should be replaced

Couldn’t solve the conundrum so asked Jackfruit hoping I’ll be amazed

Two hours later and a litre of juice, he seemed in need of a nap

Halfway through, he looked gassed it was too much he had to start and stop

Though he huffed and puffed, Garage Man did a half-assed job

I bought a large ALDI doohickey then ran into a prob

The required assembly was beyond me contacted Jackfruit for assistance

Took one look, surveyed the landscape, he was on to it without hesitance

For over three hours, he worked on and off finished a large bottle of lemonade

Upon inspection, I tittered wouldn’t display that joke at the promenade

Our neighbour, his ex-housemate, had been homeless like him

The couple discarded Jackfruit like an old hoops rim

He’s lived in ‘Struggle Street’: a backpacker’s, public park, desolate cavern, even on a beach

His ambitions aren’t grand: a roof over his head, sustenance, some winter knits

No dreams of writing the great new Aussie novel or his ‘home improvement’ going viral

Never mind a surfeit of tees, jumpers, and backpacks his conditions are basal

Ancient nomads roamed lightweight and maintained an ascetic lifestyle

The drifters subsisted no lottery or Facebook; with stones and fire they were mobile

Did Jackfruit visit the lib? Used desktops? Did he take public transport, instead of his own ride?

Lingering questions, as Garage Man spent a lot of time outside

Was he searching for surplus bread? For lost family? Did he get fresh air at the seaside?

As a Christian, does Jackfruit attend Sunday service?

One thing’s for sure: his bucks weren’t enough for groceries

Always a gamble, bringing a stranger to your abode

You wonder if they’re going into Twilight Zone mode

Gradually, along the river of time, our relations turned sour

When he said adios, some of his possessions were left behind I was dour

Contacted me, Garage Man would pick up some stuff

I ghosted him and was intentionally gruff

He mentioned moving to Queensland

Why was he heading there? He loved the heat and beaches, and would pick fruit at the farmland

Flawed Jack the Rover battled trying circumstances

His auspicious days behind him, long lost are his potential and happiness

He used the garage for sleeping and his morning feed

Without any obligation, I lent a hand, will gladly help someone in need

Our paths crossed for a year but I’m grateful for that time

Wishing him the best of luck and may his future be golden and sublime!