there is a man who appears to have beaten being ‘homeless’ by making his home the space under a stone railing about three blocks from my work.
upon an ordinary outing, i catch his eye.
“honey come here”
against my better judgement, i find my feet moving in his direction. we both seem mildly shocked.
“honey, i love you.”
“oh hush”
“okay, i dont love you. but you sure are pretty.”
“i almost wish you loved me. no mans ever been that honest with me in my entire life.”
“are you in love?”
“no”
“good, youre too young to know what love is. how old are you?”
“guess”
“you look about 18…19? you still in school”
“im 35″
“get ou…no stop now youre just making fun of me.”
“no, i really am. im not even wearing much in the way of make-up so im flattered that you think i look so young.”
“honey you think you can spare some change for the man that doesn’t love you?”
i fidget uncomfortably and think about the four dollars in my wallet which equal my ticket to not having to walk to work for the rest of the week. i shift back on my heels, make a move for my purse…then instead opt to lie.
“i really don’t”
he shakes his hands, turns his palms up and shakes them again. i try to ignore his look of dissappointment…but the shame begins to burn a hole in my belly at about the same time he returns his head to its home in the blackish gray of his once red sleeping bag.
the sun reflects off of my shoes and into my eyes as i carry my twenty one year old limbs away as quickly as they’ll take me.
the end.
I love you, you’re my best friend. You’re the only person I can have STD sing alongs with and then turn around and grove to Grover Washington Jr. with.
PURE MAGIC.
No more bouts of sadness. I’m putting a spell on us.