My friend the enemy.
The lady in the red car avoids eye contact with him. Discreetly locks the doors. Prays for the green light.
Couple behind her plays ‘Guess-what’s-written-on-his-cardboard-sign’. 1 point per correct word.
Cell Phones frantically put away. You would think they saw the police. None in sight.
‘Don’t you dare, Thomas! I’ll need those quarters for my parking spot.’
‘Mommy, look! He’s talking to his imaginary friend. Like me!”
‘Ya right. “Hungry,” but has money to buy cigarettes.’
‘No way am I funding a meth addiction’
Green light. Tangible collective relief.
Puddles splashed, empty cup.
Heartache. Loneliness.
Forgot how to cry.
Another red.
New faces.
Hope.
Hope.
Green light.
Red dress, red light.
So, Every day, he tries.
‘Just be patient. They’ll thank you.’
‘You kept them safe. They’ll help you.’
With a medal and the people he killed to get it.
Killed his marriage instead and soon was on the streets.
He tried killing them again with alcohol. With weed. With dope.
Back home, his kills sprung back to life. They became his new friends.
One moment he saw a human with dreams and aspirations. The next, “nothing”.
For every kill, he recalled the face, what the dust felt like, how the air tasted on his breath.
Her red dress fluttered in the wind as she sobbed silently. He kissed her and her pregnant belly, goodbye.