Following him for a quarter of a mile rakes on my patience, he moves intolerably slow, inspecting every trashcan.
(half a subway sandwich, 3/4s of a boba drink)
Setting down a half eaten deli platter and three paper cups balancing like birds on a wire,
His movement is feverish
(two more paper cups, a pizza box)
Holding far more than he can eat, I track him back to the park where he rustles a hand full of sleeping bags, and doles out the yield.
A home is not a prerequisite for a community,
Though tonight, he is the bread earner.
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