Anxiety, Compassion, Mardi Gras Beads

Here are some people I saw today:

Coming into work, I passed this shirtless man. His chest was handsomely contoured, but sort of a pale, ashen color, which seemed different from the rest of his skin. He seemed to have some nicks or cuts on his body, but I couldn't tell if he had been hurt externally or if this was some kind of disease. He lurched when he walked. He seemed tired. I was struck by him. I thought he was in trouble. I sort of stopped, uncertain of what to do. Everyone kept moving, including me and him. We were going in opposite directions. I thought about going back, and asking if he needed help. I kept looking back as he got farther away. Almost as soon as he was too far to go back to, I became convinced that this is what I should have done. I prayed that he would find help if he needed it, and that I would get another chance...

Then, I had to go to Rite Aid on my lunch, and I passed this old, scrawny guy sitting on one of the planters near there. He had pink feathers and Mardi Gras beads around his neck, and some ratty, dirty shirt and shorts on his body. I think he was sort of talking to himself. I was struck by him, too.

On the way back to work, I passed this tall black guy selling flowers. He had roses this time, lovely red roses. He says he's homeless and trying to earn money honestly. I've bought flowers from him a couple of times before. I said I had to go to work. He said he could walk right with me, I didn't have to slow down. He follows you with this hangdog hopeful look that will instantly turn to disappointment and disillusionment if you say no. I didn't want to buy them and take them into work. I wanted to get away this time, and I did.

Michael let me out of work early. We were watching the Sopranos all day. Violence and heart, and I don't know which there is more of. Anyway, I was gonna come down here to this cafe to use the internet where it's cool. And on my way I pass this guy sitting there with his cardboard sign, and his head is down over his hand, and his face is crumpled like he's in despair. He looks sorta young, like maybe when he lifts his head he will be handsome. And I think fuck, I just can't, I just can't go by while somebody looks like that. I think maybe he'll be handsome when he looks up. I read his sign. It doesn't make much sense. Something about a train he needs some money for, his dead father, some aunts in Connecticut, he's so depressed, he had to spend his money on two days of sugar medication, please, please. So I go off, thinking I'll get him some food and bring it back. I walk halfway down the street, and I don't see anything but McDonalds. I'm thinking, what if he hates McDonald's. What if he's a vegetarian. What kind of thing is it to get somebody food without knowing what they want. Besides it's sort of near Bally's and I don't want to risk running into Rashool.

Back to the man with the cardboard sign. I see myself in the window. You don't look as hot as you think you do, in that skirt. I see myself, bending down to him, before I get there. I am very aware of my skirt. It's pretty. I am becoming, maybe, a girl who wears clothes that other people admire. I have, maybe, earned admittance into the female club. Or maybe it's the money club, or the make-up and plucked eyebrows club, in which case I am out.

"Hey," I say. "Hey." He looks up at me. He is not handsome. His face is full of troubling angles. His eyes are red, bloodshot. He is not ok. I don't think I ask. "Hey, are you hungry? Are you thirsty?" His mouth spills words. Words about getting out of here, about how excited he is, just needs the 8 dollars. I lie and tell him I don't carry cash money. I ask, where is your train. I offer to go with him to 30th St. and get his ticket. He says somebody will give him the money, whatever. He voice is confused. It wanders around, trailing his meaning behind it, in tatters. His voice is not hopeful. It is not excited, when he says he is excited. "Listen, I bet you're hungry. Thirsty. Why don't I get you something to drink?" Ok maybe Pepsi. "Ok, you stay here. I'll go get it, I'll be right back."

Back on over to Rite Aid. I find about a million kinds of Pepsi. It is dazzling. Lime and lemon and diet and vanilla and one calorie and caffeine free. I pick caffeine free. I decide to get some food. There's a sale on cereal. I pick a heart healthy bran thing. I think that means love, and caring. When you give somebody nourishing food, and not candy or something. When you know it's probably the only food they have right now. Maybe he will think it's stupid. At the counter, it turns out that you have to buy the two cereals to get the discount. It is only 70 cents less to get the one than it would be to get two. I feel I am in the hands of destiny, a bit trapped by logic. I go back and get cornflakes with bananas already in them. I didn't know that was an option. My bill is $6 something.

The man is still bent over himself when I arrive again. I think about how I would feel in the heat, how crazy I felt when there was no air conditioning yesterday. I bend down and say I got him Pepsi and cereal, too. He doesn't want the cereal. He says he would only want the cereal with milk, anyway he's going to be on the train for like 4 days. So take it, I say, to eat on the train. No, honey, you keep it, it's better you keep it. Only enough medicine for two days anyway and then when I run out I can't eat. Keep it, I say. For those two days. Ok? Maybe you will get hungry. I take out the heart healthy one. You take this one. You keep this one. Ok? Good luck. Thank you, he mumbles. I do not know what our eyes said together, his and mine. He bent back over his body.

I straightened up. I wondered what the man across the way is thinking of us. Does he think I am a good person? Does he think I am a foolish person? A little white girl who thinks she's some kind of angel?

I am afraid of these things... I am afraid I am a fool. I am afraid I do not understand the world, or that I understand too much. I never know what to do, and I do not approve of other people nor of myself.

But I am trying to see him. Because he said he would be there. And I am afraid, I am afraid of leaving him on the street, alone, because he was wearing pink feathers and had sores or a crazy drugged brain. I am afraid that I am already like them, already crazy. I do not consider that I too have that face within my face.

I see you hungry all the time. I see you mad and frightening, with your signs all full of words. I am full of words too. I am frightened of you, and of myself.

O Lord come back, and this time...

Redemption? I kept the cornflakes with bananas. I too am a child of God.

Does anybody else think about this stuff?