Michael stood outside a hole in the wall pizza joint on Broadway. He had the streets written on him, but didn’t look the part of homeless in a way you could tell right off the bat. He looked in our direction. I wasn’t sure why I was drawn to keep him in my sight. He said something friendly I couldn’t focus on much but still I kept looking at him. To most, he probably didn’t look like anyone to have a conversation with. His neck was decorated with pictures in cheap ink. One of these drawings reminded me of tablature. I approached him to ask if I could see what he wore. Upon close inspection, this drawing was of prison bars with a face behind them.
Michael had done time, but I saw no reason to ask why he had been imprisoned, I instead asked him about his freedom. For the next twenty minutes my friends and I were given insight into his life as it was. He gave us a narration of how he’d sneak into a nearby business to shower quickly and how he’d earn money doing small chores. Michael even pulled out a baggie to show us the change he collected. He would often count it over and over since he had plenty of time to do that.
He showed us the picture on his arm of Jesus and I was impressed this had so much color to it. He pointed out to us specifically the color of the blood from the crown of thorns on Jesus’ forehead. I stayed quiet but took note that he wore this on the inner side of his right arm. I wondered if Michael knew why he had put this face on the arm that shows strength? I wondered too if Michael knew why he liked that blood so much?