A big thanks to Ian Chung and Eunoia Review for publishing my story The Listerine Man. It was a dark time in my life but I felt it was important to share my story to shine a spotlight on homelessness. Plus, writing about my past has proved to be cathartic.
He sat down at my table. More accurately, he crumbled into the booth, a disheveled mess of a man. I glanced up at him with fire in my eyes, a contemptuous look that I didn’t attempt to hide. He peered back at me with the eyes of a lifelong drinker: bloodshot, watery and blank. If the eyes are the portal into a man’s soul, then this guy had quit on life decades ago, alcohol and homelessness snuffing out his essence. I felt no sympathy for him. My icy constitution won’t be swayed by a vagabond who seems to share the DNA sequence of a wild dog. He sat at my table. I didn’t want him there.
McDonald’s is a homeless person’s mecca. Flat screen TVs tuned to ESPN, cheap coffee with free refills, warm air circulating throughout, a place to sit somewhat comfortably. I spent a lot of time there…
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