ten dollars.

"Ten Dollars"

If there were a time to show someone that I
love God and people, it was in that moment.
Sitting on a subway, a man sat far
away from me, but his stench sat close by.
His clothes were torn and stained, and hair was some
sort of refuse of strings, held together by a
cloth that was maybe a hat for a while, but then
could only pass for a piece of fabric as dirty
as he was. The man held a bag of trash that he
stared at, as if he needed it - like it was
all he had. He bent himself over, to
hide his face I believe, and invested his eyes
in his pants, or the floor. I ended up on
that car, because when it flew by, it looked
empty and I don't like to be cramped.
A business man walked on as quick as I did;
We both eventually smelled him, before
we saw him. We reacted. I, breathing through
my mouth, moved away from him. The business
man darted, obviously, across the subway. I
think he thought he could share the story of the
man with those further down on the cart, as if the
poor man's smell hadn't introduced him
a while ago. Something in my spiritual being
churned - it was easy to affirm,
conceptually, the first and second commandment,
but to actually love God and love others
was a stretch. So, I plunged my hands
into my pockets, just to feel a ten dollar
bill. I decided the money wasn't mine
anymore, but had a Higher Power it answered
to, so I'd let it go. Still, I think there was
something truly sublime about loving
him - whether it was his clothes, or his
stench, or the fact he couldn't look me in the eye.
Something about loving him scared me; something
about looking at him made me hate my
skin, simply because it was clean. But, I didn't
want to sell my possessions either. I could
do plenty of things, but instead, I'll buy myself
a remedy for my guilt complex - it costs
ten dollars.