Charlie lives in a comic book. Superman says
everything is his; he can have the Fortress
of Solitude. Flash of blue. Swamp gas. A fresh
God pinches cheek and says, “I’m crazy baby,
you better believe it.”
In this piece, a homeless vet writes to a friend. I used a composite of the stories I heard as a therapist who worked with homeless vets in San Francisco.
7/04/2012
Hey Kev
Thought I’d drop you a few lines since this week makes
five years since we left Iraq.
I know you say you ain’t the same without ur leg but I hope
ur feeling better.
I’ll feel hella better when I throw out these pills for crazies.
Why does the fuckin’ V.A. give me pills when I say I need food?
Why don’t shrinks know people go crazy from hunger?
My partner died of AIDS last year, so I got no one to talk to, so I
went to Reno last month.
The ticket was a free one way, so I figured I’d go see family.
That was a big mistake.
My bitch of a sister wouldn’t let me meet my nephew ‘cause I came out gay.
Her Holy Roller husband kept sayin’ he’d shoot me for Jesus.
I told them to kiss my faggot ass!
I spent the rest of my money for a one way back to Frisco.
That’s life for uppity fags and burnt out war heroes.
I keep hoping you’ll send me a card so I know ur alive.
I’d call but I can’t buy a phone.
I get $300 a month General Assistance and it costs $200 for a week in a crap hotel, so’s I won’t have a place for the next three weeks, but please write to that address I sent anyways.
Please.
Love,
Zack
Homeless people write on the walls when they bed down to sleep in Clarion Alley.
I was under powerful witchcraft and hoped I was possessed.
I thought of little Reagan; the tricks he did with the crucifix.
He was light in the head and rose by circumstance.
Were I novelist, I’d have written a story, but instead I spun
and spewed garlic.
Judy asked if I was trying to vomit and I snarled, “No! I need a
fucking exorcist!”
Judy said what I really needed was a time out until I learned
to behave.
I’m starting to think Judy doesn’t love me.
The staff carried me off before I could levitate.
Rob Goldstein (c) 2017 All Rights Reserved
Note: Seclusion is a nursing intervention defined as the solitary containment of an agitated patient in a fully protective environment.