The yellow cat sprawls in a foggy damp dawn in front of the 24-hour convenience store.
Coffee and gas, the former buyers step over the cat.
I opt for the daily paper.
I try to read it outside.
My glasses fog.
The gray humid hours pass.
Time to turn in the room key.
Fortunate me, a snug room .
The night before, $14 easily dropped for a miniature crab cake the size of a walnut.
A homeless woman shuffles to the beach.
I yell, “Hey, I’ll leave the door open.
“You can grab a shower.”
She turns and shouts, “Fuck you and your offer.
“You’re so fuckin’ stupid; you think the shower’d make it better.”
Close to the beach she goes, her backpack a brown lump in the fog.
I walk to the office and drop the key,
But just in case, I leave door unlocked.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, late April 2015
Author: Gene Novogrodsky
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, a Brownsville resident for nearly three decades, writes North American border slices, from eastern Canada to central Mexico, and in between. He is one of the founders of the Narciso Martinez Cultural Arts Center Writers Forum in San Benito. He sometimes participates with the informal Resaca Writers Group in Brownsville. He prefers, however, to read to two or three attentive listeners – when asked!