83rd Street Howler

83rd connects Argyll to Bonnie Doon and, further up north, 106th Avenue. Puzzling strip mall businesses along Argyll to the south. McNally High, two traffic circles, and Rowland Road to the north. Just stepped off the 106: I’m on 83rd tromping south – homebound. Up ahead I see a guy waving his arms around and throwing out some top-of-voice fucks to passing cars. He’s either lit, gooned, or both and then some – having some trouble keeping a straight line. Every time a car sails past he’s batshit indignant, yelling and carrying-on directed to no one and everyone, like we’re all stomping through his living room. I get a little closer and consider bailing west on 78th avenue just to avoid the fucker. Skinny bugger – got about 15 years on me but I’ve got a few inches and 50 pounds on him. Even so, I might be in for it if he steps up. Strength isn’t what it used to be and I haven’t thrown a swing since high school. I don’t think this guy has it in him. I step to the curb of the block he’s on, sidewalk half-covered in loader-pushed snow paste. Guy doesn’t look at me as I pass. Keeps empty eyes trained forward. His chin sags blank. He’s not there. Puts an extinguished butt to his mouth and fades out of the corner of my left eye. Ten seconds later he’s calling out to me. “Hey fucko! Piss on y’all bitches! Kill a fuck!” I glance back once. Can’t keep his shit tied. No threat. Seems hatred and fear take up too much energy these days. Empathy is the real work.