Requiem for a Bum

   There were always those homeless guys you would see drifting around town from time to time. You’d usually spot them at a gas station, convenient store, or walking along the highway. You could tell they had been on the streets a while - their clothes were dirty and they smelled of body odor and Boone’s Farm, or Budweiser whatever was their poison. Occasionally, they’d walk up to you and beg for a few bucks. You’d always say the same thing, “Sorry fella. I don’t have any cash.” Then you’d walk off, embarrassed to be seen talking to them.

    Over time they would disappear. Initially, you wouldn’t even notice that they were gone. You were too busy living your life to care. It wasn’t until you got older that the thought of them came back to you, haunting you like the ghost of Jacob Marley. Now you realize how it is to struggle with money. Maybe you haven’t been down and out, but you know the struggle.  The images of these homeless men come back to you. You wonder whatever became of them - Did they ever get a job? Did they ever reunite with their families? Or maybe they wandered off into the woods to die a lonely death. You’ll probably never know. But you think of them, and you wonder if their lonesome spirit ever found a home, or is it still drifting along as it did in life.