Tuesday, March 3, 2015

You Spare Change Your Mother With That Mouth?

The beggar starts speaking when I'm only half-way across the street - jay-walking at the middle of the block, no less - so I'm not really sure he's even talking to me until I'm almost up on him. By then I'm stepping up off the asphalt over ice lumping the sidewalks like filthy gray tumors, with a good excuse to not make eye contact. As I walk past he's blessing my family in a dead voice like he'd love nothing more than to see them freeze to death one at a time.

I know what you really mean, when you "bless" like that.

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