Expectations

Expectations

A Story by Rob
"

Short essay in the voice of a person who is new to Ireland and has become homeless.

"

Expectations.

Inadequate.


Absurd, the word.



“Stand up.” I rise.


“And how does a man such as yourself end up in a situation like this?” mental flash; fist connecting with pillowy part of cheek; double-leg takedown. Now we are living in the same world. I too can ignore pain and push through despite insipid expectations. Inadequate.


But that's the difference, huh. Your expectations weren't insipid to you. They gave you incentive and rewards all these years. That's the difference between here and there.


“It's a long story.” It is a long story. Sometimes it takes a long time to say goodbye, even though you wanted to run from the start.


He's obviously still drunk on the thrill ride, and has never met someone like me before. And has buddies all around. I look left, right, left...zero. Serenity. Sorry, I don't want to take the ride right now. Reduce. Calm. Simple. Forward. Yes, I understand. You have tourists like me coming and don't want them to see debris. Good day.

----------- ------------------- ----------


So yeah, Hi. We've never spoken, though you've probably seen me before. I feel like you've seen me before. I feel more seen here, as I sit, more than I do anywhere else. Anyway, I can't possibly be the first you've seen. I sit, cliché, between the cracks, in the shadow of a neon Bukowski sign, drawn to what I probably don't want to know, saying to you what I hear you saying to me: let me in.


Your addicted think I'm a cop, and can abuse me at will because I am not allowed to be one. Cop-out. Y'know she told me once that 'the sound of firetrucks, in the rain, is what it's like to see you again'. It was the most beautiful blade anyone ever cut me with. But it isn't cash now, is it.


Am I better than your worst? Do I deserve one privelege extended to your beaten and belligerent? I am jealous of them...of the support they have...despite the lifetimes of s**t living in the thickness of their skin. I want to contribute. Do they?


“What? Sorry, I can't understand you. No, I don't have any works. No, no tablets.”


Why do your seagulls sound like babies crying.


Shoes, texture, tread, tired, caffeine eyes, tears. Roots here. Permission.


“You don't look like a bum.” “Then I must not be.”


poise. to strike. threat, defense. kindness. love. blind generous love. Raw, agape. agape. agape love. Greeks. Septuagint. Think. Stop thinking. Stop stinking. Don't stare. Eye contact. Eye contract. Look away.


Who earns an Irish sun. What next, more walking, one man protest, arms, torn tendon, constant baggage. Amble, stray, half-smoked cigarette, high linger smoke sick. Are you sicker than me? Plea, appeal. Job, beg, calling. Peat. Meet.


Pitch.


© 2017 Rob


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Added on November 21, 2016
Last Updated on January 14, 2017
Tags: homeless, heartbreak, home, confrontation, contribution, permission, exclusion, place attachment, philosophy, worldview, pain, disappointment, Ireland, worth

Author

Rob
Rob

Dooblin, City Centre, Ireland



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