WOMAN PANHANDLING, SAN FRANCISCO, FEBRUARY 2008
there's an anger in her that simmers and bursts. but the grief flows unstopped. her name is patricia. the cat in her lap is "fluffy."
she sits erect unbent but her face betrays every thought.
she has cancer in her stomach.
"i'm not afraid to show you" she offers as she shows her withered belly.
her husband died in '03 with the life she had. this one is hard to bear. they prey on her because she doesn't fight back. she can't; she won't. they come into her room at the hotel and take everything. every month, they take everything.
and for what she needs, they want her to do things.
"but i'm 56" i can't do those things.
she cries and she yells and she spits spiteful words. these men.
then she stops.
"i'm sorry" i shouldn't.