Not Just a Bum

Cocheesh was the  name he gave me.  The hospital wrist band he was wearing told me otherwise.  "No place will take me in 'cause I won't conform to their rules," he told me.  "I'm too much trouble for them."

Sleeping where ever he can find a spot, Cocheesh told me he owns a sleeping bag and "not much else."  Last week he slipped and fell down a steep incline near the river.  "Broke my hand and busted up my leg pretty bad," he said as he pulled up his pant leg to show me a very swollen leg riddled with cuts and bruises. 

"I'm just a bum," the 59 year old former construction worker told me. "That's what people call me. A bum."

"We're just the same," I said. 
"How's that?" Cocheesh asked. 

"We're both humans. I've just had a different set of circumstances than you. I'm not really any different," I said.  At that, Cocheesh visibly relaxed and offered me some sunflower seeds from the bag he was clutching.  "Nobody talks like that out here," he told me, staring off into the moment before us with a wistful glisten in his eyes. 

We both stood to part ways and Cocheesh invited me back to his bench for more conversation in the future. Seems like an offer I can't refuse.

From his masterful album In the  Dark with You,  Greg Brown once again hits the nail on the head with this fantastic gem:  Just a Bum