Thursday, February 15, 2018

Robert Lee Haycock writes


I call him The Barker. He stands most mornings at Market and Montgomery yapping incoherent monosyllables at passing traffic.
He approached me before dawn today while I waited for the #5 Fulton.
"Won't money ye?"
"Wall mounted see?"
"One more time?"
I stared at his swollen tongue, his snaggled teeth, his cracked lips. I was trying to understand as he tried again.
"One monk easy?" 
"This is October."
"Ahhh, Octove. Wuzza dade?"
"This is the fourteenth of October."
"Four teens. Sank you."
There but for the grace of God go you and I.
Image result for barker homeless painting
Homeless Man --  E Dan Barker

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