At 7’4 They Call him Small.. For a Hobo
At seven foot 4 inches, Small stands out on the streets, he would stand out anywhere.
He walks around in pajama bottoms that reach just below the knees and a hoodie. He is rail thin with a handsome Midwest face, but his meth teeth and clothing make him look like someone you might find hawking cotton candy at a carnival.
Small does well with the ladies and ironically seems to prefer the short ones.
He can be a little verbally aggressive, and said something to me when we first met, he could tell it didn’t intimidate me and this ironically, seemed to relax him. Anyway we have become pretty good buddies, and bullshit over a smoke when we run into each other.
One night him and this cute little blonde girl he was seeing for a while, were arguing like cats and dogs on a couch next to me at night watch. Almost told them to take it outside, but twenty minutes later they were making me sick withthe lovey-dovey baby talk.
Carol is also a friend of mine. Out here and on the run from a mid-west adult assistance program that she felt was keeping her growth stunted.
Carol smokes a lot of pot to overcome her social anxiety and what seems to me a pervasive sense of shame. She has an naivety about her that I find charming, I showed her the ropes one afternoon and we have been close ever sense.
Well after Small and the blonde broke up he and Carol started dating and were by each others side constantly. Small is pretty funny.
He got to coughing and a huge string of snot came out they he appeared not to recognize. I said something about it and he sticks his tongue out like he is just going to lick it up, which grossed me and Carol out to say the least, but she got a tissue going quick enough so that event never had to be witnessed. Carol is a sort of any port in the wind girl or as she likes to say promiscuous. Well one night Small came across her and another guy sharing a sleeping bag, completely lost it, throwing her into a wall and given her a concussion. He spent some jail time for it but after he came out, I was sort of avoiding as to give myself a chance to search my feelings.
One day after watching the Buddhists paint sand at the library I saw Small across the street and offered him a cigarette. He really is a sweet guy and the look on his face was screaming, “I know I fucked up please forgive me?” Well the Buddhist had me thinking about kindness and so I let my own past go, and told him I loved him and he didn’t have to worry about me judging him, which seemed to relieve him a lot. Carol has a lot of friends now and is doing fine, but the event did traumatize her. Reminds me of a Springsteen song: Spare Parts and Broken Hearts keep the world spinning around.