Entry 125

A man called Breeze.
The homeless junkie was
Aged:
63.

With a hand rolled cigarette
And rattling trash filled shopping cart 
Parked at a bench 
Outside the library.

We spoke with ease.

Shared my last joint and
Listened to his fractured 
Story. Technology. Weather.
Marijuana. Methamphetamine.
Heroin. Alcohol. Cocaine.
Bullet point presentation
On the foreign origins of his heroin. 
All topics of 
Our discussion.

My fist bump departure had an electric zest. 
More so than when we had met 
And exchanged names. 
His voice
Rang 
“Jacob” with ease. 
Familiar soul to the ancient name.