Friday, February 25, 2005
Found
Eleven days ago I found the money in a garbage can. When I saw new looking paper sack in a garbage I grabbed it out. You'd be surprises what people throw out. New stuff sometimes.
It was somebody's dough. I wanted to leave, to run because I knew they would come after it, after me.
At first I thought I'd give it back but then I thought, who knows where it came from? It could be robbery money and it'd be marked. I thought that for a while. It could be drug money or payback for a murder. My hands held the twenties and tens. Hundreds of them. All fairly used. I wanted to count my. . . What would I call it? My find, my loot -- no, not loot.
I wanted it. Make no mistake about that. I'm always broke. Other guys get CD's and DVD's. I get nothing. I can't hardly pay my rent on my sad crib. My job sucks. I clean up the Tidy Wash and Dry on 28th street. Minimum wage, oh yeah. So what fool wouldn't would keep all this money?
I started laughing. I guess I'll just damn keep it.
