Solitude is what the homeless hear. Solitude, is what is given to them. The silent majorty oblige by living in thier own fantasy worlds. Solitude is what is craved after a night on the shelter. Defining,  noises of words of the previous night still ring in thier ears. “Do you have a cigarette, do have, when is Mrs Ronda going to come, where do I go for? Solitude, only broken with grind of tiers driving past as they scraping sounds of suitcases accompy them. Solitude, is what they hear when they spoken to. Hearing, without speaking is thier hallmark. Seeing, without touching. Solitude is what they hear.
Solitude and silence is what we will hear on the 26th of December. The sanitation department starts the slow pickup of marketing and consumersinum, the larger the pile of trash the more successful the season. Solitude, will follow the man or woman, who is in an ambulance after getting yesterday’s gluttony of single day no good do gooders, who hand out cash or food or sundries. Solitude, will only be broken by the indigent huddled together for heat , at the bus station, riding the busses, sitting at restaurants quietly, or the library.
Two days ago I had my frist altercation of the streets. I called jo, walked up to me trying to intimidated me to give him cash. Where’s give me a bill he yelled at me looking in my eyes nose to nose. I said nothing & after a few  minutes he walked away. The next morning I went out to my spot and he appeared agin. He went to other spot not bothering me  so I considered it over with. About five to ten minutes latter he walks not five feet in front of me and tried to set up shop. Out of rage and knowing that if I did not do anything I would be his bitch. The yelling started on his part due to the surprise that a fat wight boy stood his ground. I think he was not expecting that. He kept yelling he’s a man, over and over agin. Like a four year old , stomping his feet arms at the ready. To me. It was a familiar seen of my brothers constant aggressive behaviors. All things began equal a real man would calm down thing it through and apologize, but, things are not equal. These are the streets of the homeless people and each one lives by a code of some kind of thier own interpretation.  Jo, is the end product of the silent majorty,  and the judicial system not willing to spend there money on the cure but, building more jails, giving higher and higher saliers to the Judges. &, prosicuters to churn out people like Jo. I expect to have another run in with him sooner or latter if the streets don’t get him or me. It’s Christmas day, and the last chance for the homeless to make Bank for a while we sit under bridges nd at cross roads hoping for that last philanthropic act by the silent majorty. For tomorrow, they will turn face and look for thier precious law and order to restore order and keep them safe for another year. Solitude will be restored.