.jpg)
he's old, ancient.
but then again, he's homeless -- gent could be pushing 40.
been there since 2000.
i know this because we spoke once.
more like a confrontation.
years ago, a dead friend and i came into money.
a week @ sea on the 40-foot Lancer
cruising the channel.
up and around Santa Catalina;
San Nicholas;
San Clemente islands.
spotted my 1st swordfish.
-- moderate sized girl with fist-sized beaks in her belly (big squid in the summer).
nevertheless i got a 50 spot.
-- finders fee.
DD harpooned her off the starboard.
Mario; the dead friend, piloted the Lancer expertly.
and she was ours.
but i'm rambling.
straying.
this is about a homeless man under the gaffey street bridge in san pedro, ca.
years ago, with money in our pockets, a friend and i bought about 20 bucks worth of Hostess product.
the factory nearby.
damaged Ding-Dongs;
slipshod Suzi-Qs;
defective Dunken Sticks (you get the picture) -- all on the cheap.
we had our fill.
and with several chocolately treats left, we decided to hook up the homeless man under the gaffey street bridge.
we stopped, drove to the gaffey street bridge
and low and behold, he was there.
clutching an AM/PM Big Gulp, wearing a scowl.
buddy crossed the street, grubbage in hand -- the homeless man spying us from afar.
he stood.
looked past us.
and from i can remember, he took our sugar-coated offerings -- with great disdain, with contempt, with a fiery disjointed glare -- and hurled them unto the ground.
just like that.
"i don't need your charity," he said.
didn't need it.
didn't want it.
and he's still there, under the gaffey street bridge.
2011.
