Sombrero

He woke up to police shaking him down. “Hey, wake up…you gotta move on…wake up…” Quietly he stood up and tried to focus his eyes. He was blinded by the early morning sun. It was his birthday, but it was just impossible to remember how old he was. Looking up he saw the Verdugo hills in the distance. So many houses and random buildings. He imagined what it would be like to be able to occupy the smallest of spaces in one of those homes or buildings. The miracle of not having to sleep on sidewalks, at bus stops or in random alleys and parks. No more fears of being robbed or just harassed for no reason. The thought of no one bothering him for the drugs they thought he had or just stealing what little he did have, was like living in a heaven he knew nothing of. He walked slowly in no particular direction as the rest of the world appeared to be in some kind of rush to get to somewhere else. Cars, trucks, brave people on bikes, everywhere around him. The early morning was already too warm and the air was heavy. Downtown Los Angeles, where the sidewalks are dirty and everything smells like piss, trampled on him like he trampled on an old straw sombrero forgotten and left behind. It was discarded like so many other things along that sidewalk he thought as he continued aimlessly into the abyss.