Fly Me To the Moon

Crack was created and dispensed by the media to intentionally destroy the black community.

It is early morning, just about 9 a.m., I really am supposed to be at Howard's Elementary school on 136th. I slept in, there's no rush to go to a Fun Fair and cater to dozens of loud, greedy, and on the rare occurrence , modestly shy kids. So, in decision that I am already late I think the first thing any man would do at this point of realization. "I'm hungry".

I decide to try and get my hair re-cut after the first gay latino man took swing at it and gave me the oh so fashionable 'every-mothers-dream-haircut-for-their-baby-boy!'. Let me just tell you, I look ridiculous. Anyways! I diverse! I take to the early morning Miami streets. I looked on google, who doesn't?, for any hair cutting business within walkable distance and found one, or so google told me...Anyways, on my walk their I walked by a old abandoned car dealership. I figured, "why walk all the way around it? I might as well just walk through it". I take my advancement through the portion of the dealership where people bring their cars, almost like a drive through enclosed on both sides by miniature offices made of glass for easy access I assume. As I reach the other side, and the offices end, sitting there with a dream-scope in his eyes and the physical appearance of a vagabond with a life story is a man, a homeless man. But he had something to is eyes. Either that or my heart is so big it just assumed he was a soul needing some type of a break. I just looked raised my hand slightly and said "Hey." without slowing down or speeding up, he did the same from his fixed position and we continued on.

I couldn't find the business google so easily fixated my attention on because I mean, who doesn't trust google? I started to walk back the same way I came and figured it was early and if I were deal with a fun fair now I need to eat. If I need to eat, i'm sure my new acquaintance needs to eat too.

I made my way to Burger King because it was the closest franchise, otherwise I would have gotten my buddy some nice Panera bread or Subway. I got there at 10:25, fixed on getting him some good breakfast combos. But no, the glammed out princess's in front of me, Shaniqua and shanaynay took to long to order and the menu switched. I got food regardless. I venture back towards the encounter with my troubled brethren. Without a word being said, I walked over, slipped of my sandals, sat criss-cross-apple-sauce, put the bag down in front of him, and grabbed the tots and told him "I thought we should have breakfast together".

He looked at me puzzled, like I spoke some dialect he had yet to discover. He thought it over for a few seconds and said "I'm actually on a fast, but thank you". I wouldn't mention the open container of what looked like was Boston-Markets' rotisserie chicken that had been freshly peeled apart. I drank my OJ in bliss, knowing today I would learn something.

Conversation breaks through the cantankerous flow of traffic just beyond eyesight. "What do you think the skies made of?", almost in another state of relapsed confusion he just replies "The sky? I don't know. I never thought about it" For the better part of 30 minutes I shot out questions, just wanting to know. To think there are souls no one ever knew because no one could take the time to find them. In a nutshell we conversed on:

Obama, he thinks he's a great speaker. Who doesn't?

Music, he tried to play geetar for a career because he thought he was good. "I guess I wasn't that good" haha, he's optimistic.

How he ended up homeless, college, welfare, I see where college will get me.

His favorite colour, blue.

The books he liked to read, science-fiction.

If he would want to go sky diving, he just wants to fall through a cloud.

His grandma, and his aunt who were both such sweet hearts.

I told him two stories about life and morality that I think flew over his head.

He couldn't keep up, but it's alright. I'm sure he's done enough keeping-up.

As he started rolling up cigar tobacco into all his make shift material left over from past cigars and cigarettes and black-a-milds that littered the space around him, I noticed a roach.

Now if you don't know, the roach i'm referring to is the end of a blunt. A blunt being marijuana wrapped in a cigar leaf. OK? So I asked without hesitation "You smoke pot?" to which he replied with the most serious face "Oh, definitely". I laughed so hard. He was so serious about it!

I'm going to buy a dub and show my new pal to a good night.

Probably tonight even.

I just figured a life like that must be lonely, and I wouldn't want to be lonely in this world.