2.
There's
a coffee shop walking distance from the shelter. These days I haunt
coffee shops like I used to haunt bars. I went to Freddie's on
Broadway because it was a cheap, cash only dive bar that asked no
questions and only required people not to offend the general
atmosphere. That place was also a wonderful archive of all things
masculine from the 20th
Century: hand drawn wrestling posters, beer steins, collector booze
bottles from the 1970's, I hung out at Rubbie's because it's a
neighborhood bar close to home, the happy hour prices are good, and
the well bourbon was tolerably good. That bar was also a good bell
weather for the last Presidential election.
Angry
white men
trying
to hold back
a
changing world
like
they grip their beer
Now I
rotate between a handful of coffee shops in the city. When I'm
scribing for pay or working on my own words, I go to noisy coffee
shops, like the one close to where I live, or the one close to the
shelter. When I'm meeting people, I go to one of two Heine Bros. On
Bardstown Road because the white noise doesn't distract my ears from
conversation. When I want to hang out and read, or talk to people who
have also either stepped off or were pushed off the wide path , I go
to Highland Coffee. They each have a thing I like better there than
any other coffee shop. Heine Bros serves a turmeric chai with black
pepper I really like. Highland has a nice selection of herbal teas
and makes a cup of coffee. Sunergos, in my neighborhood, has the best
cappuccino in the city and serves delicious cheddar chive drop
biscuits that make for a good lunch.
Pockets
of warmth
in an
increasingly chilly cityscape
regardless
of the season
regardless
of the temperature.
Please
& Thank You on Market and Shelby is a short walk from the shelter.
They have wonderful herbal teas and the best blueberry lemon muffins
in the city. I go there to scribe or to work, and to eat a muffin
after I finish my short shift in the shelter coffee room. Lately
I've run into K, a woman I met when I volunteered with one of the
local homeless outreach organizations. She's usually sitting out
front, a few steps off to the side away from the corner. When I can
afford to, I get her a cup of coffee. Sometimes she's flying a sign.
Sometimes she's waiting for her boyfriend J, who is always either off
trying to find work, off trying to do some good deed that will, when
he tells the story, never be repaid in kind. J has a demon in his gut
like I do. When I see her I ask whether J has been drinking, so I
know whether I'll see him or the demon. They are always in a state
of emergency... being moved on, lost a tent, stuff stolen, scrambling
to avoid snow, rain, cold, heat. Their home camp in Butchertown was
bulldozed a few years ago to make room for a soccer stadium. The
investors through money at the city to house the residents of Camp
Campbell quickly for the good PR boost. Nearly all the former
residents of Camp Campbell are no longer housed now. But there aren't
any news cameras around to notice.
Erasure
– delete a line
delete
a camp
delete
a person
a
collateral damage