He stepped this way, that way, the other way; his fingers inside a peanut butter jar; half-empty; eating and pacing. Where does one go when there's no place to go to? His hair, Jamaican style, lending a vitality to his ambiguous steps, or perhaps, it was his firefighter suit jacket that implanted the thought on my mind, causing the judgment, pre-judgement, misjudgment.
He began crossing the street, stopped, turned around, stepped backwards: that way, this way, again. He looked inside his jar and got his fingers dirty again; stuck in his mouth and sucked it clean. How long has it been?
Someone, long ago, handed you a pacifier, apropos of that, immersed in something- what? What kind of parents did you have? Apple juice, milk, beer, wine? Did they imagine their baby would grow such a beautiful dreadlock? I bet they never once imagined he would end up by my window, homeless in Santa Monica, trying to decide where to go, which direction to head towards when all directions lead to nowhere.
And just like he appeared, out of nowhere, out of nowhere he went. We shared but a fraction of a moment, but from this day forth, his destiny, his tribulations; he has made me an accomplice to it. I was busy watching him as one binge watch a series; as someone who has made to the forth season in one sitting; and is not quite there anymore.
In my stupor, it never occurred to me to open my window and yell to him: " Go home, man. Go home. Don't you know that parent's doors are built with spring hinges?"
- AMENDMENT TO OUR SOCIAL CONTRACT -
From this day forth, no human being will be allowed to bear a child he's unwilling to provide for, forgive his/her/them transgressions and extend a hand in times of need.
***An exception will be extended to all religious people who happen to bear un-traditional children. They should follow the guidance of their loving God.***
