It was fall. The students were back on Kirkwood bustling in and out of shops. Punks playing in the park. Street musicians hanging out at the steps. I walked to Dunkirk Square where there’s a series of stores. At the plaza stood an old beggar man. He had a gnarled hat, weather-worn face, crooked nose, a walking stick,black sunglasses. His arm reaching out. He wore a tan, long, trench-coat, and had a silver tin cup in one hand. He called for change. People just walked past. When I came to him, I handed him a dollar.
I. This is my last dollar.
Beggar. mmmmmhhmmm
I. What?
Beggar. What are you DEAF? (screaming)
For lack of anything better to say.
I. Do you like Dylan?
Beggar. Yeah he is coming to town.
I. Which one is his best album?
Beggar. Highway 61 Revisited.
I. I think it’s Blonde on Blonde.
I went home. Came back with a credit card, and bought a brand new copy at the CD store. As I left the plaza, I passed the beggar.
I. Got it.
I showed the man the CD.
I walked to the steps and came across a group of musicians. I sat down and asked them if I could play. They obliged. I played a few of my tunes.
The beggar hobbled up.
Beggar. PLAY.
I. I have 25 originals. I don’t do covers.
Beggar. PLAY.
Nervous and disconcerted,I played a song about my Family.
Beggar. You Play IT LIKE A BAN SAW.
He walks off.
I walk the other way home.