Downtown, in a coastal city of Louisiana.

My wife of 24 years died in a car wreck two months ago. I was devastated.
I lost my computer job last month when they outsourced to Mumbai.
I got evicted six days ago I couldn’t pay my rent.
My son lives in Minnesota. We haven’t talked in a decade.

I was staying at a friend’s house, but all I could do was cry.
So I drank, too much, and got in an argument.
It’s hot outside, but cooler under this bridge.
I didn’t know grass couldn't grow here.

I’m so overwhelmed; I don’t know what to do.
I read the front page and it gave me some news.
There’s been oil in the gulf for 60 days, and things are extremely bad.


Fuck that. I want my wife back.



Here’s the end of the wallet story.


Two days later, I asked the girl at the counter, “Did a guy come in and get a wallet.” She looked uneasy.
“Um, yea, they come and got it, a while ago. Well, um, somebody come and got it for him. It’s your wallet?”
“No, I’m the one who returned it.”
“Whew, I thought someone took ya’ wallet.”
“Did it have the money it?”
She was offended.

You think you have nothing to say.

I didn’t have a post this weekend because I was finishing a play I wrote for The Houma Terrebonne Le Petit Theater’s, One Act Play Writing Competition. It’s due next week but wanted a few people to tell me what they thought. I thought about posting some of the dialogue, but I thought it would be taken out of context, so I figured I’d miss a week, but just when I didn’t have anything to say….

On the way to the office this morning, I stopped at my usual convenience store to get a cup of coffee and noticed on the ground, a man’s wallet. I picked it up, looked around the parking lot and I saw a guy getting in his car, jumping into the driver’s seat. I held the wallet up for him to see. He gave a weird expression and I took that to mean it wasn’t his.
It was a black, nylon, threefold wallet, and I had an 80’s flashback when I ripped open the Velcro to see if there was any money was in it. (It could have been empty and I would have tossed it.)
It had money, plenty of money. I saw 20’s that looked a half-inch thick. I closed it, brought it inside and asked for a manager, thinking, “Boy, I would really love this money.” What amazed me was from the time it took me to see the money and close the wallet, no more than two second, I imagined, stuffing it in my pocket, paying my rent, buying my wife a gift and getting a hair cut, but that’s as far as I got. I had to at least give it to the store in case he comes back, and who knows, someone other than the driver could have seen me.
I asked for a manager and it took awhile, so as I waited, I looked into the wallet for an ID. I saw all that money again and a Louisiana Food Stamp card. I read the name and closed it.
“Damn, someone else who is broke.”
The manager still wasn’t there so I looked to the back of the store, I saw the owner and told her. She said bring it to the front.
On the way back to the front of the store, a possible reward entered my mind. “Yea, that’s it.” The manager was now at the check out and I explained what happen. I told her the person’s name that I read on the card, and she said she didn’t know him by name, but could know his face. I thought about giving them my business card and let the person who lost it know who the good Samaritan was. I didn’t. I sure could have used that money.
Driving away from the store, I thought, if they don’t ever come back, the store gets the money, and they’ll likely spilt it between them. They know me from going in there each morning. I’m sure I’ll find out what happens. Now, all I’m hoping for is Karma.