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For some months
I frequented a certain
coffee shop.
I kept to myself.
Got my medium Au lait and
took it outside
to sip in the sun.
Winter came.
I stopped going.
Last week, one warm day,
I went there
for the first time in months.
When I walked in
the barista came out from
behind the counter.
She put her arms around me.
She held me close and said
"We've missed you."
Street Drugs.
I went to
a Black Lives Matter gathering.
It was in a park
on the North Side.
About two hundred people.
Three or four of us white.
An elder woman
with fire in her soul
was addressing the crowd.
She challenged us,
"What will YOU do?"
Standing next to me was
a young girl,
a teenager.
I noticed her looking up at me.
I looked back at her.
We held the gaze
for a minute or two.
She began to cry.
She put her arms around my neck.
I put my arms around her.
"I'm afraid," she said.
"I know," I said,
"I know."
Street Drugs.
I was sitting on a bench
in a park with my dog,
enjoying the sunshine.
A homeless man I know,
a young man with few teeth,
came by and sat down
with us.
I said "How are ya, Bob?"
"I'm happy," he said
"I had a good breakfast
at the church
and I found some good scrap metal
in the alley. I'm happy."
He petted my dog and
wished us a good day.
Street Drugs.