(A Memoir)
I want the words to pour forth from my broken teeth,
I beg my mind to recall the past blur of a life, my life
Nearer to end than start, or even middle
I ask for a kind ear to bend,
Listen awhile to this heart…
The pavement had caused her paddy paws to dry and thicken. I cried when I handed her leash to a stranger. We were leaving the Salvation Army on a freezing morning in October, a month after walking away from the impound lot in Fort Deposit. Spice was such a good natured, loyal girl; she deserved a warm bed and regular feeding, a pat on the butt everyday. Maybe even a fenced yard to play in. Her looking back as she was led away ripped my battered heart some more…
It wouldn’t be my last heartbreak. Since leaving my family and active addiction, I had lost easy access to cocaine, lost my 1970 Mach One to a State Trooper in Alabama, lost most of my clothes in a duffle bag in an orange grove somewhere in Louisiana. Who knew they had orange groves in New Orleans? Maybe they were peach trees, I had been delirious with hunger. But I hadn’t lost Danny, he was still trudging along the highway beside me, and Binky Boots Bouncer Callahan, my kitten, was still tucked inside my leather duster.
Days past. Miles put blisters on our feet. Danny would insist on rubbing my feet before we slept, huddled together in our sleeping bag under some scrub brush each night. My head cleared more as the raging need for a hit was replaced with real hunger each morning. I longed for a grilled cheese every morning. Danny was an excellent thief, with me as a distraction. As long as there were grocery stores we usually didn’t go hungry for long; a heisted pack of lunch meat, can of tuna or Spam our usual fare.
Our destination was still the West Coast. A new life, new jobs, clean and sober. How we would transition from homeless to housed and employed was yet to be seen. I had learned to bathe using only a liter of water from a plastic soda bottle, another for my long auburn hair. Danny had always been lean and I now was, also. Especially after walking around a barren mountain on a seemingly endless and empty stretch of road in New Mexico, only to realize we had gone in a complete circle a day later.
It was a beautiful journey, even with the discomfort and hardships. I was now hitting on all cylinders mentally, Gratitude filled my heart every morning as my frosty breath drifted skyward, into an impossibly blue, blue sky. We had crossed paths with so many kind people, my faith in humanity had been restored, to a degree.
Jumping down from another big rig, we waved goodbye to the driver on the outskirts of Tucson. A exciting once-in-a-lifetime experience would soon follow.
Out of the Gutter Art 