Belief in the existence of other human beings as such is love. Yellow tape runs between poles at the Kāne'ohe bus stop where a homeless woman has set up beside her shopping cart. (In future, shopping carts shall come with locks to prevent their wandering.) A man lives in the front seat of a pickup truck on Lulani Drive; his bumper sticker reads “Hawaiian: Nuff Said.” He poked holes in the black plastic curtains to let air in. A white man with a white beard sits on the ledge beside Macy's in Kailua, and while I see his eyes, I can project nothing into them. Existence is a narrow space, one so easily fallen from. It's cot, or stretcher, safety's barest minimum. A cell comes with bars, as does a crib.
2 months ago