Jesse

photo: dosomething.org


Jesse

Last night Jesse wandered crooked to my car.

I’m hungry. . .

and I’m really really scared.

His hands shook like chicken feathers,
ruffling through dirty hair.

Blank eyes stared,
past mine.

My cell phone was stolen, and all my cash.
A line.

Will you help me, please?

This kid looked really bad.

Would you like a hamburger?

Please and thank you, Ma’am.
Where do you live?

Yakima.

Do you want to go home?

Yes.

Will I be safe with you, I asked?

I’m more afraid of you…

Get in.

Drove Jesse to the station,

gave him all my cash,
from my purse.

Pot reeked from his dirty sleeping bag.

He shook like he was coming down…

(or worse)

Chin up and eyes straight, Jesse.

One quick hug and he was gone.

He could have been my son.

He could have been yours.

He was just a kid,

Jesse.

ldn