A Few Lousy Quarters

rawbone skinny and leaning on a cane. his eyes glazed as the chill wind brought tears and streaked them across his angular cheeks. his right foot in a makeshift cast. this old black man had never seen an easy day in his life. there on Tampa Avenue he had a look of weathered mahogany, cold coffee, thumb tacks and foot blisters. if I’d had a twenty it would have made it’s way into his cup. if there is a god, I hope he’ll find this man a tall bottle and a warm bed tonight. a little comfort for a ruined soul. as the light changed, I dug into my ashtray and came up with a few lousy quarters. looking into his eyes, my heart broke a little, like a cracked eggshell. all I could manage to say was, “I hope this helps”. he nodded thanks and moved on to the next car. humbly and quietly there remained grace within this broken, old, black man.