The Lord and Abraham Lincoln

When in need of something and unsure of just what, one must wander.  It’s at these times, when the wretchedness inside the dark patches of the globe seem most outstanding.  Sickly men, minds three-fourths gone setting up shop in the shadows atop the trash are like spectacles.  You are afraid, but not nearly as much as they are.  One day/night, you forget your keys and sit on the stoop for an hour waiting for your whoever you live with to arrive home, but these guys, these guys are locked out of the house for good.

What you are able to call luck, they call necessity.  Banking on odds far out of any one persons favor.  Gambling with two eyes, a mouth, two ears, half a heart, a foggy mind, at least two limbs, a neck, a torso, fed by rusty blood and enough poison to blur the situation.

One day when I was wandering, I had an encounter immediately unfortunate and post-immediately heart-rending.  For the children’s sake: At first I thought it was terrible, but it turned out quite surprisingly.  Before I introduce what I encountered there is something you ought to understand.

I am rarely compassionate for those I find in situations blatantly self-inflicted.  I find it hard to understand the miserable, all you have to do is want to climb out.  This has been the land of opportunity since god knows when.  Even though the country was founded on principles blindly excluding those belonging to different races (non-existent), it was a push forward to see better days.  Anyway, the chances are there for the taking.  Yes, I know, you think this is “easy for me to say”.

Regardless, it was one night when I was wandering, when I met some guy, The Lord, and his dog Abraham Lincoln.  At first sound of their names I thought we no longer had anything to worry about and that whatever problems we experienced were soon to be gone.  Then I understood that these were imposters, then I later understood they really thought this is who they were, then I really understood this is who the man thought they were, and that the dog was innocent and had nothing to do with such nonsense.  As, only man can lose his mind, and an animal is only as good as whoever speaks for it…

So there they were the savior and the great leader both laughing insane about entirely different things.

“What is the greatest nation in the world?” The Lord asked as if to fool me.

“Donation” I responded without turning my head.

Abraham Lincoln barked as The Lord gave a discouraged fist motion, seen through the eyes of the girl across the street, since I wasn’t looking at them.  (She will play the role of my eyes for the remainder of the situation.)

“I’ve got an idea for you…” I began.

The Lord mustered up the most unintelligent face ever known to mankind.

“Why don’t you go ahead and make a donation to humanity?”

Just then The Lord broke out into song.

 

“Mister rich man, rich man, open up your heart and mind, give the poor man a chance, help stop these hard times.”

Then Abraham Lincoln took to his trumpet and howled away like there was no yesterday, today or as the saying goes, tomorrow.

Okay so maybe it didn’t happen that way.

I think they performed a Bessie Smith song, “Poor Man’s Blues”, but I won’t know that or of her until I get home and look it up with my sources.

The Lord just sang and sang and sang.

So I stood there and eyed up the girl across the street to gain some reassurance that I wasn’t the only sane one in plain view.  She gave me the “Wow, is this really happening?” smile and eye.  It was then I knew, things were going to be just fine.  Being on the same page with her is like the relationship you build with a stranger after you bond over putting down someone else.

Just then, as the singing hit the wall, for the first time I looked over and saw The Lord dozing, burying his head slightly into his filthy, ragged coat.  Abraham Lincoln was sad-eyed and gently pawing at The Lord’s calves.

Springing up like a jack-in-the-box, “Well! Sure is getting late! ‘Bout time to get mah beauty rest!” proclaimed The Lord as he wrapped Abraham Lincoln’s leash around his wrist.  “Good talk!” he sent my way.

I made my shocked “what?” face, mouthed the word along with it, and hoped Abraham Lincoln was being properly fed.  First off, my clock read 5:19 P.M. and secondly, I was sure I was neither overly judgmental and/or blind/deaf.

And so just like that the undoubtedly mad homeless man, the savior, and the undoubtedly mad homeless man’s dog, the great leader, turned the corner.

Like them, the girl had gone too.

Just then swarms of people came rushing from all directions carrying their briefcases, pushing their strollers, walking their dogs.  Some stared at the ground and some stared at the sky either way they weren’t paying attention, either way they were somewhere else.  The sky was slowly roasting above.  A businessman walks out of the convenience store.  I had been standing against the wall for almost thirty minutes now.

We caught each other’s eyes.

“Sorry, man.” The businessman said.

I made a confused look, then understood…

“Oh no, no, no, I’m just standing here waiting for somebody.  I wasn’t asking for…” I called in defense.

“Look, I can’t help you out.”  He disappeared behind the doors and windows of his sedan.

Just then I fished around in my coat pocket for my billfold to prove my point to the businessman.  He saw me reaching, reacted nervously, frightened and backed up and pulled away like there was no yesterday, today or as the saying goes, tomorrow.

The night’s spider spun me into his web of misunderstanding.  I could just cut myself out?

I began to walk home, I thought about where I was going and was overwhelmed with a feeling of great satisfaction, sort of like the excitement when you look ahead to an insignificant situation.  I conquered the blocks.

Almost at point of arrival, my stomach thrusts into my throat as I see a very familiar two characters in an impossible situation.  One was tied to the black railing and the other through a window in a brick front home with olive green shudders and a black door, undressing from his rags.

I was on to them, oh, I was on to them.  From now on I’d make sure no one fed The Lord and Abraham Lincoln’s scam.  I was already angry and I didn’t even know that I’d lost my keys yet.  Livid, as I saw that god-damned sign staring at me stapled to the electric post in front of me read, “Help the Homeless.”

Why? When it’s real, in theory homelessness really means that your home is everywhere. In this case, most people believe that limits are luxury.  In his mind, why make a home all yours, when you can make ALL your home?  At least you’ll never be locked out.

 

 

 

 

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