New Shoes

On a park bench near the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis, MN, a name-less man sat down between Gregg and I and began to complain about his broken cigarette and how cops stole his shoes and gave him navy blue prison-issued slippers and that he was homeless and that he was only knocking on a door but got busted for burglary instead. I bummed him a light and tried to ignore his pleas for redemption. This encounter sparked many thoughts after Gregg and I did what we could to leave the man peacefully in his sorrow. What was he doing at that door? Was his broken cigarette as good as an unbroken cigarette? Was it his last cigarette? Where had those slippers been before they brought him to that particular bench at that particular moment in time? Where did he sleep last night? Where will he sleep tonight? The world can be a hard place but I sure do hope he finds some new shoes.