|our next door neighbor here
in the building is very shy.
seldom seen but we have
an understanding. i slip
unplayable 45s under his
door for duct tape decoupage--
george has a vision all his own.
he also winds figures
wire or whatever's at hand,
sometimes spelling our names
in friendly greeting, other times
abstract, with an almost
trajectory of tight
devolving into deconstruction (as here).
"[stuff] takes time," the tombrowskis
write in their book urban
proved true again tonight when
we carried some excess to truck
for good will donation. one of the
charms of our block is it stays so dark
--lots of shade shade trees and no streetlights
(except at the corners). i thought i saw miso
curled up in the grass but it was just a bag.
then sarah saw the body inert on sidewalk in
fetal position. "are you ok?" no answer at first.
||i knock over what i
think is a 12-ounce beer
but it doesn't spill--turns out to be a bottle
of cooking sherry he managed to get cap
on before collapsing. sarah eased him
back to consciousness, offered water
and a cheese sandwich. he's grateful
and tells us his address. first thought
is to put him in a cab but that's too
chancey so i offer him a ride. he's
totally wrecked but impeccably
polite. "just call 911--i don't want to
put you out." my feeling is it's better
not to touch the system, so, newly
endowed with motor
power, i drove him home to where
he was welcome, apparently some
kind of transitional housing. he held
on to my arm to cross the street, so frail
and weak, light and fragile as a bird. when
he dropped his sandwich and stepped on it it
didn't even make a dent and he said, "i want it," so
hand it back, better than eating nothing in
thumbs-up from the folks at the desk and i was on my
strange to think all this started unbeknownst right
below our window.
i'm glad we're the ones who found him instead of
some angry NIMBY
with a hairtrigger dog. a relatively happy
resolution to a sad situation.