inner city

09/08/2014

“People understand me so little they do not even understand when I complain of being misunderstood.”

His name was Ralph. Loyal and kind. A homeless man we met on the corner between fry's and circle k. I pulled up next to the group of sleeping bums, he cautiously approached the car. “What'ca need?” His hands were soiled, the color of charcoal. His face was pockmarked, noticeably dirty and unshaven. His sandals were tied with a shoelace around the ankle. He lifted his arms above his head to stretch exposing holes in his t-shirt, in the middle of each armpit, a thick patch of hair. I thought, unsanitary. Hygiene and health, supply of sewage facilities and clean drinking water. Who am I to judge, he probably took better care of himself than I did. The only difference, he lived on the street, I lived in an Extended Stay Hotel. His eyes caught my attention, so much sadness. Pain and misunderstood. Her voice was powerful and assertive, “ a $20.00”. Celeste usually worked the transactions, I usually let people walk all over me.

“Right on, follow me.” 

He started to walk in front of the car. Confused, I yelled to him.

“Do you want a ride?” 

He laughed.

“no no, I don't work like that, I never get into people's car.” 

He waved us forward as we slowly followed behind. Anticipating to score, anxious the car crawled slowly. Living with no means to survive. It was Monday, we counted our quarters, the last bit of money for the rest of the week.