Beneath the Streetlight

“I met him when the bars were closed,” she said. “I wanted to get a drink but it was too late. Our town is small. Most people go to bed early to get up for work. They are tired from working in the garden, attending PTA meetings, and reading the Bible.

”Beneath the streetlight,” she said, “He was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. My thirst and desperation were gone and all I could do was tremble in his overwhelming presence. He was powerful and evident. Like a black tower suddenly erect in the middle of the city. Except he was not. He was almost like you and me, flesh and blood.

”I told him I wanted to get somewhere and do something, he said nothing. I smiled and flirted, but he seemed not to care. I wanted to get to know him, but he would not let me.

”I dreaded the moment when the sun would rise. I would have to leave him and go back home, sleep an hour or two, go to work. There would have to be clothes considered, a shower, food, small talk, reports.

”But in that perfect moment,” she said, “I was with him, in the middle of that deserted street. He was such a beautiful hobo corpse and I was madly in love.”

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk