The non-people
A man is masturbating in my backyard. Now he's wiping his bottom, front to back to front to back. He has a huge bag, the kind of ruck sack homeless people carry. I watch him as I drink my coffee. His hair is long and wild. He is standing with his back to me, trousers at his ankles. I lose interest, and when I check back, he's gone.
My friend arrived home after drinking last year, it was late on a Saturday night. A homeless man was asleep in her bed.
The homeless have been banned from the parks, from the sidewalks. The council wants them to disappear. Like picking up trash, and putting in the trash can, they're cleaning. Won't the streets be prettier?
My friend arrived home after drinking last year, it was late on a Saturday night. A homeless man was asleep in her bed.
The homeless have been banned from the parks, from the sidewalks. The council wants them to disappear. Like picking up trash, and putting in the trash can, they're cleaning. Won't the streets be prettier?
posted by tui at 5:22 PM
6 Comments:
Just about as smart as the non-smoking section of a restaurant.
You don't know me (and I never update my blog), but I adore your writing.
I hope you're okay.
Dave, no.
your detachment is deep-down. i wish i could reach that.
I'm not detached at all. I know two people who are homeless. Sometimes they knock at my window in the middle of the night. They have no where to sleep. The police have chased them from park to park to doorway to street. There's nowhere for them to go.
Check out a song by Lazyboy called 'underwaer outside his pants'
Awesome take on homelessness...
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