I take the Lake road exit in my borrowed 4x4. The down-and-out vet stands at the
intersection motionless and seemingly emotionless – the same scene at 2:30pm
the day before.
A $20 bill burns a hole in my pocket so I roll down the
window and wave to get his attention. He
starts toward me with such a jump, but – oh, how I wished then he wouldn’t have
fallen – now he is laying with dry lips kissing the dirt on the ground a few
paces away.
He struggles to get up slowly but surely, red-faced with
shame, knowing the light will change any second – and with it his chances of
getting the crumpled bill in my hand.
“How are you doing?” I ask foolishly.
“It’s the damn leukemia.”
The light changes and cars behind me inch forward so I move
along.
Palm trees line the street, equidistant one from the
next. Pasadena is a beautiful city.
