47. Rabble
Roused from some prevailing half-world or another, they had taken the streets in the dead of night – as dead as the night can get around here, anyway – but they took it gently. It became clear quite early that this was not a protest. Heads nodding or completely down, eyes in a purgatory between sleep and sight, feet dragging and scuffing already scuffed shoes on the asphalt.
What remains do remain in this burlap bindle? What’s so small that it had the chance to be forgotten and kept without attention?
The mob – if one could call it so – grew voluminous within its overarching genre as it passed by this corner or that alley. The collective pace of the collection of stranger-affiliates allowed for a sweeping silent congregation of like-minds and like-bodies who had made temporary beds of the downtown sidewalks.
A piece of glass – sea glass, polished up proper. Don’t know how she made it so far from home. At least one piece of ABC gum, wrapped back in its foil. The other shirt, of course, but what else? What little things made it?
Cars could not pass. Police had begun to assess the situation as far as standing, trailing, and gawking can assess anything so unique yet mundane. There appeared to be no ruckus, and the wonderment that forced itself to strike any onlooker was enough to keep our blue boys scratching their heads and refraining from asking their ready-made questions.
Bottle caps! Nesbitt’s bottle cappers – collector’s items. Rusty thimble. Mustache comb? Ivory mustache comb – or did I go an’ spend it?
Spilling back out onto the sidewalks, the mobilized faction had reached its greatest potential, and then: as they turned onto Main Street, the cloud of rabble dissipated like that of smoke – pace kept, shoes still scraping. What no one knew: it was first annual Homeless Pride Parade. The last marcher remaining held the center of the street until it led him to the riverfront, where he set down, removed his tattered boots, and untied the knotted burlap pouch from the top of his smooth walking stick.
Hmm. Mhmm. Yep. No comb. No, sir. Hmm. Ohhhhh. Yes, sir. The first penny I ever begged! Feels nice. It’s a good rubbin’-penny. Yeah, it’s the little things, alright.
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