never stop

(homeless man, san francisco, 4/28/07)

he's well groomed and tan. meticulous really. everything in its place. he carries a small backpack; looks like he's on a tour. on vacation.

but he's the only one.

and his eyes give him away. they're sad. like tears would be flowing if tears could.

he's just arrived from florida. and he just got robbed. so he's waiting to get his next disability check. and he'll be in better shape. it's not enough to live; but it's enough to get by on the street.

he's been getting food at shelters; though he'd never sleep in them. he's hoping st. vincent's will let him take a shower.

his name is james. he was in the army for twelve years. he was shot in the leg; and that was that. he ended up on disability in a trailer park.

but then he found the girl next door; well, in the next trailer, actually. she made him feel like he'd never felt. she made him want what he'd never wanted. and he married her. he was 34; she was 24. "ten years"

but she died of throat cancer before their life could begin; having never smoked. ...and "before we could have children."

and he never felt that way again. and he has no family. and barely friends. though he knows folks on the road that maybe he'll see again; maybe he won't.

he just goes from place to place. wherever he wants. he was just looking at the map this afternoon and decided. he'll go to monterey next; and carmel. he loves being by the water.

"do you think you'll ever want to stop somewhere. have you found any place you like?" i ask.

"why would i stop?" he asks. "why would i do that?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
(sign up for newsletter)

(tomstonegallery.com)