He
carries everything he owns in a paper bag. What are you? A
broken alarm clock? A returnable pop bottle? Once, on this
very corner, a man hit him in the mouth. That's why some of his
teeth are missing. It was drink made that man hit him. He
never drinks. He waits for you everyday with his hand out.
Everyday without fail. It's a wonder he's still alive. The
coldest days he spends at the public library. But where does he
go at night? The moon is shining now at four in the afternoon and
down here it's all wind and shadows. In the streets with the
blowing snow and newspapers he carries on the same argument with his
parents, though they have been dead thirty years. At the mouths
of alleys he pauses...He is an only child. All he wants is his
share.
|