(sxc.hu)

Shopping Cart Thieves by JAMES HIGGINS

Are there really so many differences between homeless people and those who do have a home?

Homeless are like zombies around here on these sidewalks. They're everywhere. But they're without the evil intent most zombies have. They share a clueless blank stare, shocked, wide-eyed and wandering. I think they are good people; they just seem so surprised to find themselves in the current situation. Homeless, without a job, abandoned by the family, or just alone for whatever reason. They walk, beaten, filthy oily hair, cheeks and coat sleeves. I remind myself -- "that's me"; I'm just lucky enough not to be out on that road. I'm in from the cold, riding the coattails of others around me, as I always have in my life. I moved back home.

Why shouldn't I just lie down in the road and wait for some quick tires to finish crushing me? I'm run over all the time, always getting hit. I can never get out of the way, it seems. I think I'm turning away but it's just a different road with the same result. I'm in the wrong direction, speeding down the one way the wrong way, past the big red DO NOT ENTER sign feeling unstoppable into another collision with painful reality. And I've got it good. I wonder why the homeless don't just sleep in the street. Jump in front of the trucks or such. They should definitely migrate, I think. I know I would. Straight ahead to Disney world. I was there once, in Orlando. It's nice. All palm trees and happy people vacationing in the resorts, celebrating, living, spending and remembering. Dreading the fact that they have some heavy burdens, some obligations to return to in some less-than-fantastic city. But for a week or even a few days, they can feel some magic and take some photographs of it. I know the weather is much better and all, too. Who wouldn't want to live there all year round? Why would anyone leave a magic kingdom? A self-imposed exile to the rust belt, to the motor city, the arsenal of democracy. Proud place names that have nothing to do with me. If I find myself walking in circles up here in frigid Michigan, reading this rant from some public library, maybe I'll wander the miles south into Florida. Seems better to sleep on the streets and wake up warm to cartoons, green grass and sunshine than abandoned iron bricks and cold rain.