saturday_october_any bijou these numbered nights, we have a few weeks. spent this one neglecting our real friends and run the streets like children, some dry fingers clasped around some softer ones dangling between us. i gave a pack of cigarettes to a bum in the parking lot. more than once he has been so small. on the phone he wilted out loud, "i know, you too" and deflated a little. one night his voice shook in fear when he said "i don't think i can" and i had never seen him smaller. i sat in silence ready to agree. heard him coughing hard through the early morning and feared for the worst, it was worse, and cold wet hours are better left alone because it's certainly the only way i know how. i don't want to give up, but i am so selfish. if i cared as i say i do, i would help him crawl back another. i have thirteen weeks left in this town. 041004 what's it to you? who go blather from