lacked ambition…

and he’d walk ’round town all day…out in the hot Sun…turnin’ his face into a reddish brown leather…eyes bloodshot from the night ‘fore…and the night ‘fore that…

the old man would beg for dollars on sidewalks where business people walked past carryin’ briefcases…wearin’ suits…talkin’ on cellphones…the old man yelled out as they passed him by…yellin’ out how freedom wasn’t free…and they were all just marchin’ to a giant drum…

but ‘ventually he’d get ‘nough cash for a forty ounce…a small bottle of fire water…drank it down quick…like it was soda pop…then he’d go lookin’ for more…lookin’ till night came and darkness engulfed the town…yuppies whoopin’ it up in pubs and taverns…nicely lit beer gardens…drinkin’ craft beers and Moscow mules…they were civilized…

he never wanted to be part of society…never wanted a home or a rented room…had his blankets hid under the viaduct that stretched ‘cross Calhoun and Harrison…other downtown streets…slept off and on up in a corner tucked away from sight…no-one walked under the viaduct…they’d heard stories…tales of how homeless men would rob ya down in that part of town…steal from ya like Pancho Villa…nothin’ could be farther from the truth…

too hungover to steal from anybody…stealin’ takes ambition…ambition was the farthest thing from the old man’s mind…could say he lacked ambition…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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