Day 2: 4:30 p.m.
He's just a kid. Eighteen, nineteen? I didn't ask. We barely saw each other.
Traffic moved too fast.
I was on Weidler. Northeast Portland.
Yes, I was late to get my girl who waited on the other side of town.
This kid on the corner with his hand out had three tattoos under his left eye. They were black tear drops. Permanent on his young skin. His gaunt, slim, fine face was slick and shiny from sweat.
I wish I had a photograph but there wasn't time. It was rush hour. Cars everywhere, four lanes of traffic, plus a train and four more lanes going the other way. Pandemonium.
Jeans, blue shirt, a black vest. This kid darted out of nowhere. He had a cardboard sign but it wasn't up. He squatted low on the sidewalk. Maybe he was having a smoke? But then he popped up and I was almost where he stood.
I thought, "Oh shit, it's my deal. Money? Where's some money?"
I scrambled my fingers into the little change dispenser under the steering wheel. I bailed out all the quarters, dimes and nickles and quick, down with the window and reach.
"Here you go."
He was fast to grab.
The whole thing felt like we passed a baton in a relay race.
He had black spiky hair. And those tattoos.
His eyes were wide open and he was there. Present.
Our hands touched. His fingers had tattoos, I think. I can't really say for sure but when I close my eyes now and go inside--search deep into memory of that flash of time--I see marks on his slim hands. He looked at me--a woman giving him money. I kept my eyes on his face, his tattoos and his eyes. Were they blue? Or brown? Hell, I do not know. They were bright. That's what I remember.
In the looking that deep, this kid became crazy beautiful. I'm not making it up or pulling some new age who-ha. I mean it. He was heartbreaking wide open, unbelievable beautiful.
It wasn't the looking at him as a homeless kid.
It wasn't looking at him like, "oh man, that could be my kid."
It wasn't looking at him like I thought he would have the face of love.
He just had it. Love was all around and he was beautiful to me.
What's going on here?
TIME TAKEN: One minute
DOLLARS GIVEN: ?? Maybe $2.00
Traffic moved too fast.
I was on Weidler. Northeast Portland.
Yes, I was late to get my girl who waited on the other side of town.
This kid on the corner with his hand out had three tattoos under his left eye. They were black tear drops. Permanent on his young skin. His gaunt, slim, fine face was slick and shiny from sweat.I wish I had a photograph but there wasn't time. It was rush hour. Cars everywhere, four lanes of traffic, plus a train and four more lanes going the other way. Pandemonium.
Jeans, blue shirt, a black vest. This kid darted out of nowhere. He had a cardboard sign but it wasn't up. He squatted low on the sidewalk. Maybe he was having a smoke? But then he popped up and I was almost where he stood.
I thought, "Oh shit, it's my deal. Money? Where's some money?"
I scrambled my fingers into the little change dispenser under the steering wheel. I bailed out all the quarters, dimes and nickles and quick, down with the window and reach.
"Here you go."
He was fast to grab.
The whole thing felt like we passed a baton in a relay race.
He had black spiky hair. And those tattoos.
His eyes were wide open and he was there. Present.
Our hands touched. His fingers had tattoos, I think. I can't really say for sure but when I close my eyes now and go inside--search deep into memory of that flash of time--I see marks on his slim hands. He looked at me--a woman giving him money. I kept my eyes on his face, his tattoos and his eyes. Were they blue? Or brown? Hell, I do not know. They were bright. That's what I remember.
In the looking that deep, this kid became crazy beautiful. I'm not making it up or pulling some new age who-ha. I mean it. He was heartbreaking wide open, unbelievable beautiful.
It wasn't the looking at him as a homeless kid.
It wasn't looking at him like, "oh man, that could be my kid."
It wasn't looking at him like I thought he would have the face of love.
He just had it. Love was all around and he was beautiful to me.
What's going on here?
TIME TAKEN: One minute
DOLLARS GIVEN: ?? Maybe $2.00
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