Page 23 - Demo

Bozo's Obstacle9%u201cI am Homeless%u201dAs if one couldn%u2019t tell, by lookingat her, but the words on cardboardaround her neck were an exclamationmark to her condition. Red, scratchylooking blanket over her shoulders,she hunched on a stoop outsidethe public garage, a hand extended,filthy tissue tucked under her watchband. That day, my own isolationmade me pause, and offer hera five-dollar bill, holding itgingerly by a corner.I was grateful she snatched itwithout our fingers touching. Nimbly,she folded it over twice, and stuffed it,along with the tissue, deepinto the folds of her blanketto nestle against a half-filledliquor bottle. She saw melooking, thanked me, called me%u201cSir,%u201d but couldn%u2019t contain a sneer,even as she wished me a happy day,and that the good Lordwould bless me and keep me safe.