Being Grateful

Random thoughts while sitting in the park

A rugged man ambles from trashcan to trashcan

His feet scraping the asphalt, the way worn Velcro sounds when the fibers no longer properly mesh

He pauses, then peers longingly, into each black void

At times his hand flashes into the abyss, like a bear’s jaw seizes a salmon from the stream

Snatching sustenance in the maw of his hand, squeezing every inch of life out of it

His clenched fist snaps back into his denim jacket pocket, a warm necessity for him on this ninety degree summer day

Most times, however, the man trudges away from each receptacle, his head hangs in sadness

He shamelessly walks past a beautiful couple and their newborn

The couple sneer as the man steps past, and exchange heartless looks

His highness utters a few choice words before they throw their heads back and cackle cacophonously

Meanwhile their child tries to eat a hornet creeping precariously on the corner of the girlfriend’s mother’s Amish quilt

The young happy couple live in their own bubble where money wasn’t if, but a “text message to ‘Father’”

They were raised and taught to judge, not understand

As I watch this spectacle from my mahogany tower with “Liberty Bench” etched into the railing, I turn to the fellow next to me, also in a similar brown sanctuary, and muse to him:

“Did you see that s**t??”

He responds somewhat bothered “What?” as I drag his focus from the proceeding park soccer game.

I retort “Do you think the impoverished judge others, or are they not afforded that mental luxury?”

The man scoffs and replies “Whatever, Weirdo.”

Author's Note

Please rip it apart