I yelled at this wild and mouthy bum trying to grift a Marlboro from another wandering homeless woman. His eyes look low and his mouth slung open from the wild winds and booze. He has done things to sit at the bus stop today, life choices like numerals, in an equation destine to sit his ass broke, tired and desperate. 

Weighing morality when deciding to be John Wayne is usually diluted by the perpetrator. Actions such as screaming obscenities at the homeless are usually countered by the sentiment of avoiding bringing the lowest, lower. 

But the fucker reminded me of the evil blue collared man. The one who left stove on and the one who shot his own dog. 

Before I shouted, I saw him mouth the words  “Look at me when I am talking to you…”

To an aged and sorrow woman. 

His bus approached as he stood five yards from the stop, he had walked along with this woman, yanking at her clothes and cursing. 

He withdrew from whenever he had last had a Marlboro, now the world was at fault. 

Poor passerby she was, walking right into his filthy Wasp nest of a mind. 

I sat in the left-hand turn lane, right across the street from the whole ordeal and shouted-

“Catch your fucking bus, scumbag.”

He turned to me like he had been caught with his pants down. 

Shouting back,

“Shut up!…Shut the fuck up!”

All I could do was laugh.