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Posted: Thu Feb 15, 2007 4:13 pm
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I never knew his name, only that he was homeless and that once upon a time he had been a lawyer. I used to think of him as Al, after Al Capone. They had nothing alike, but the first time I saw him I thought to myself "Damn, that guy reminds me of Al Capone".
I was riding the bus, the city bus; and when I looked out the window I saw the man. His clothes weren't very shabby, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days; but overall he looked decent. What clinched my interest was the sign he was holding: "Homeless. Need help. God Bless."
I got home and cried into my pillow for about an hour after I saw him.
The next day he was there, same look, same clothes, same sign. I cried again when I was behind my locked door.
The next day he was standing in the middle of the intersection on the median. Instead of crying, when I got home I changed my shirt and made my way out to that intersection on my bike.
We talked for about thirty minutes, I had persuaded him to move to the sidewalk out of the road. He was a nice enough guy; maybe ten years older than I was. He told me he was a law school graduate, he told me he had been a lawyer rolling in the money.
I asked him what had happened.
"Make money and die."
The next day he was there, I visited again, he told me that he liked to read Nietzshe. We talked about philosophy.
The third day I visited him I realized that he never smelled bad, he told me that once a month he would scrounge up his money and buy a bar of soap, and that he would go down to the shoreline and wash up once every other day.
The fourth day I brought him books and a ten dollar bill; he treated me to lunch at the local fast food joint.
Three weeks passed, I saw him every day, we talked for hours at a time, we got drunk together on the side of the road; and he would tell me about his life before he left everything.
He said was working a case when he just decided to give up on everything. He left his wife, his kid, his job, his life; he just left it all and used his last hundred dollars to buy a bus ticket across the country.
He said he loved it like this, he felt alive. I never saw him alive again.
The next day somebody threw themselves in front of the bus. I never knew his name, but when I saw his face I thought to myself "Damn, that guy reminds me of Al Capone".
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Posted: Thu Feb 15, 2007 5:11 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 15, 2007 5:30 pm
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Posted: Tue Feb 20, 2007 8:20 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 25, 2007 9:07 pm
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Posted: Mon Feb 26, 2007 1:53 pm
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