(The train traveller named Paulie would soon explain the meaning of this phrase…)
Fatigue takes on new meaning when you are on the road. You develop a bone deep weariness that is never absent- because true rest from sleep is now forever absent. One must truly keep one eye open at all times. There is danger and predation everywhere.
*I am grateful to have survived my time on the road. All these decades later, I wish I could tell Danny (not his real name) how glad I am that he loved me, that he protected me and took care of me. I really loved him, and hope his life turned out OK. My research has been unable to locate him, although I have seen posts by other family members.*
As we trecked across Tuscon that day, we were tired and hungry. There was a large police presence near the interstate, keeping us from hitchhiking out all that day. From previous experience, we knew not to rub the cops in Arizona the wrong way. They didn’t like vagrants or panhandlers in their towns, and didn’t mind locking anyone up who looked at them cross-eyed.
By this stage in our travels, Danny and I were very brown, but the sun had lightened our hair; his from mouse brown to blonde, mine from dark brown to light auburn. And neither of us carried any fat from miles of walking each day and lack of regular meals.
We had been sitting behind some warehouses, trying to stay cool under a Tamarac tree, when we heard singing and laughter. And oh, man, something smelled good. Like chicken , cooking on a grill. My stomach gurgled, I sat up straight, hungry. Danny had already locked onto where the delicious odor wafted from, and he motioned me to stay still while he investigated.
He soon came back, picking up his gear, motioning me to follow suit. I gathered Binky (my kitten) and my bags and trotted after Danny. I saw the ragtag bunch of guys, their dark silhouettes highlighted by the small campfire crackling in front of them. They looked up curiously, seeming surprised at my female presence. A lanky man with dark eyes stood unexpectedly, and offered me his spot on an upturned 5 gallon bucket. He wore Army fatigues and his dog tags tangled. He introduced himself as Paulie, and motioned towards a wizzened little one-eyed man.
” This here’s my travelling partner, Sleepy.”
Sleepy wiped his mouth and offered the hand to me,
“Mornin’ little sister.”
“Morning, sir,” I replied nervously, ” This is my husband, Danny.”
Danny stepped up and shook Sleepy’s hand, nodding hello. You could feel the fact that this man was the leader. We were now in their world, and we would follow Sleepy’s lead.
Out of the Gutter Art 
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