Hey guys, a friend sent this to me but asked to remain anonymous! Have some prose.
Roaming the streets of downtown austin, mid afternoon, "too proud to prostitute" the young man (no more than 28) holds up a folded cardboard sign. mostly out of embarrassment for actually stopping to read the sign (ehh I've seen better) I give him a crumpled picture of george washington. Thanks brother, I make eye contact to express some sign of empathy, he has tattooed a goatee onto his chin. The young lady at his side is continuing an ongoing conversation as if i wasn't there. I nearly comment as I thought I was being addressed. He lowers his net as I walk away, how at ease they seemed. What commitment to exile his defacement. I wander off just as neurotic as ever, trying to validate my own daily masks. I assure myself I am an equal recluse, the irony is not lost on me that I feebly attempt acceptance, too indecisive to go under the ink. What does it matter, whores the lot of us.