Eyes

20 02 2009

homeless-christ– by Steve Robinson

It was close to Christmas in 1971. I remember because of the bitter cold, at least bitter for Phoenix and cold enough to freeze to death in.  I remember too because I was wearing my new long black overcoat, something you rarely get to do in Phoenix. My friend Randy and I were hanging out as usual at Hobo Joe’s coffee shop after his night shift ended, drinking coffee, righting the world’s injustices, talking about Jesus and watching people, sometimes until dawn. We saw a lot of severe humanity late at night at Hobo Joe’s. Cruising gays, hookers, groups of servicemen, rowdy cowboys, monosyllabic drug addicts, lonely businessmen and glassy eyed insomniacs. This night among the usual suspects there was a broken withered man dressed in thin rags staring into an empty coffee cup, his hands were shaking like crisp brown leaves in the cold winter wind. Read the rest of this entry »

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