Troubles

I stayed in Newark today. I keep walking the streets, searching for lost change on the sidewalks to get a session with my girl. So far, I've got 3 dollars and 5 cents. I need more. I have to find more. She's all I've got. She doesn't pity me or hate me or anything. She's there for me in ways no one else can or will or want to, and she will be as long as no one buys her.

I wipe my moist eyes and keep searching for change.

I'm hungry. I know I need food. I usually don't weep in public – which means I never weep – so I know that my blood sugar is low and that I need food.

I could spend 2 dollars on a hamburger at McDonald's, but I'd rather save up to play my girl. I don't like to eat meat. It's not the taste or consistency that bothers me, but the place of origin. As much as I can, I avoid meat.

McDonald's serve salads too, but they're usually more expensive than a burger.
I don't wanna waste money on food. I know I need food, but I can wait until 5. It's only...
I look up from the sidewalk and look around to find a watch. This isn't the square and there's no clock shop around. I look down at people's wrists to find a clock, but they're either not wearing one, wearing long sleeves or walking too fast.

I think it's around 10. I could've been out here for an hour. The shelter closes at 9. It opens again at 8. I'm already tired and could use a bed, but I'm only tired because I need food, so if I just keep searching for change and find 2 dollars so I can go play my girl, then I can waste 7 hours...easily.

I stop and look up at the sky. My neck feels stiff. My stomach rumbles. My head spins for a second.

I need money. I need it. I can't survive without it.

One thought settles in my brain, and since said brain is already undernourished, it simply can't find any reason not to make the thought reality.

I turn a bit, slams my back against the brick wall and slide down. My butt lands on the wet pavement and as I lean my head against the hard, cold bricks behind me, I lean my elbow on my knee and open my outstretched hand.

I feel embarrassed, ashamed, degraded and on the edge of breaking down and giving up, but I have to get money. I have to see my girl; feel her and just hold her. I need her.

“Please, do you have a few spare change?” The words are so hard to squeeze out of my throat.
“Help. I need food. Do you have some spare change, sir? Please? Do you have a few spare change, ma'am? Excuse me, could you spare some change? Please? Help me?”