Sunday, February 28, 2016

"I wish all of this were a dream, but the blood and tears I have shed seem so wet and real."

I texted this to a friend of mine Anthony one recent morning.  He is also homeless.  He is very sweet. He is a musician and writes his own lyrics.  Anthony is generous, kind and has a lot of heart.  He is courageous, unafraid to fight to stand up for himself and his friends.  On the streets, your on your on. Most people, even if youre a woman, will not help you if you are getting attacked, even by a man.  I was once jumped by a 6'5" black dude in front of 6 men.  Not one of them intervened to help or stop him.  Believe me, no one helps or even will call the police.  He will put his life on the line to protect anyone who is being victimized on the streets.  Anthony is not afraid to show his passionate feelings, either.

Anyways, as I was saying I sent him what turned out to be a huge, long text, that read a bit like Ferlinghettis, " Howl."  I set out to just send a text message and ended up with stream of consciosness with deep feeling.  I knew it was pretty intense and maybe a little "out there."  After I sent it, I got a return text from him, "Are you ok?"

 I conveyed that I was fine and just venting my spleen.  I felt a little embarrassed sending the contents of my raw unconscious to Anthony and quickly forgot about it.

Then three weeks later, it was nighttime and raining.  I was walking u...  ( to be continuedp one of the many borderline neighborhood streets, when I saw Anthony coming toward me in the opposite direction.  When he saw me, his eyes opened big and wide and his mouth fell open, like he was stunned to see me.  He swept his hat off of his head, down to his chest and over his heart, clutching it.  At the same time, he dropped to his knees onto the sidewalk in the rain, right in front of me without concern for the couple of surprised onlookers.  There I was, standing in the soft San Francisco rain with this young man on his knees in front of me with his hand over his heart

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