The sun is coming up over Manhattan on a Sunday mouning... only the homeless are awake. Smoke billows out of the manhole covers, a few delivery trucks roust about.... A weathered old man sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup.He sits upon a cal trans orange picnic table outside a donut shop...wondering where his life went... to much time wasted on women who tried to change him, and that shitty 9-5 job he spent years in traffic just getting to and from for...and or what?....to pay for a shitty place to live, to get looked down upon because he didn't fit into what everyone else expected him to be....he helped everyone as much as he could, lent a helping hand, a smile, words of encouragement, anything that
would make him feel like he was worth something other than a commodity, making someone smile made his day /month / year. He wears muted blue dickies coveralls and
a black beanie.... he looks like a Carny, hell, he even worked at Coney Island for a
number of years... that's where he saw his youth pass him by, as well as living
vicariously through all the people who strolled through just trying to enjoy themselves,
you should never try to enjoy things..... just be caught in the moment.... that's living.