Today a drunk, homeless man sat in the seat behind an old man. He repeatedly leaned over to him and muttered, “How old are you? You 80? You 80 yet? How old are you?” to which he got no reply. I was watching him a second too long because we made eye contact. His eyes narrowed and he glared at me and repeated, “You’re no help…you’re no fucking help…” until he exited the bus at the next stop.
February 7, 2011
I’m No Help