The bewildered man hastily approached
me on Main Street. He wore tattered
jeans and a dark shirt covered with holes and filth. He stood next to me and tried to catch his
breath. The stench of dried urine made me nauseous.
The nameless man wore a long mane
of greasy black hair. He probably had not visited a barber or seen the inside
of a bathtub for several weeks.
“The name is Dennis; do you hang
around here often?”
“Yeah, I like to just stand
outside and think sometimes,” I said. “I work around here and take an
occasional break.”
Dennis said someone had given him
a few dollars for some KFC chicken. He told
me KFC is his favorite restaurant. I
don’t think he spent the money on food, because his stomach growled like an
angry bear.
Although he reeked of alcohol, I listened
to him as he rambled on about his life. He began to dig in his pockets for some
change. He managed to find some old lint and a few nickels. Dennis said he would
call his family if he had one. “Where in the hell did I go wrong?” he
asked. I didn’t answer him.
His alcohol problem cost him
everything. He had a beautiful wife and a child, but no longer kept in touch
with them. His wife left him because he wouldn’t stop drinking. Dennis, looking
dejected, said he could not return home because he didn’t have one.
He recently tried to find a job;
unfortunately, without a physical address, his options were limited. Dennis
also refused the safety of a homeless shelter; besides, the last time he stayed
at a shelter, someone stole his shoes.
A few days ago, Dennis searched Main Street for something to eat. He attempted to borrow some spare change from
an elderly man standing near a newspaper stand.
