"This is it at last, this is the secret we've been waiting for." -James Tate, from Return to the City of White Donkeys

Childhood

I left my office building a bit early on Friday. Listen here, bum a man said, as I walked by. I stopped. Excuse me I said. I’ve had about enough of you the man said. I looked up and down the street. Nobody was around, probably because I had left so early, and rush hour hadn’t begun yet. I think you may be mistaken, sir. I’m no bum I said. I know a bum when I see one the man said. I’m actually pretty well off I said. I’ve watched you, you bum he said. I have a decent job, a nice apartment I said. Going in and out of that building, like you own the place he said. I have a pleasant, quiet dog I said. Wearing that suit, but I know you’re really just a bum he said. We both stopped talking at the exact same moment. It was eerily silent, and, by now, it must have been rush hour. For a second, I was sure that we were the last two people left on earth. Me, and this accusatory man. I wanted to hold him, to make sure he was real, and to make sure he would never leave me. I grabbed the man. Get your filthy paws off me, you damn bum he said. I was beginning to wonder about myself. I forgot where I was going, and where I had come from. I couldn’t explain the clothes I was wearing. I couldn’t even explain why I was standing. I was a wisp of air that took shape every once in a while, appearing and disappearing in the shape people wanted. Or, that’s how I felt. This man wanted me to be a bum. And, so, I became a bum. You’re right I said. I am a bum. The man smiled. I know he said. Will you buy me some food, I’m very hungry I said. Of course he said.