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Sunday, April 24, 2011

That's Hard

I spent 5 months in Colombia once with a drifter I met in Georgia. He was smart enough but always dirty around the mouth and ears. He walked around begging for change and I told him I did the same, though I got a large sum of money for my uncles passing six months prior.

I drank Agua Diente and did cheap cocaine and spent long nights in strip clubs that weren't strip clubs.

One day in a alley between two streets I saw slumped against a wall moaning body shaking a cup for change. I don’t think he was saying words. I couldn't understand spanish anyway, so it wouldn't matter if he was. The closer I got the harder it was to look away, from the dry pits where his eyes used to be.

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