The good samaritans

-       A few years ago, Sine and I decided to take a trip to New York City to go on vacation. We had heard from one of our friends, Lyndon B. Johnson, that it was such a magical and diverse place. On one of our most memorable nights, we were eating French toast with garlic marinade, green onions, and sweet potatoes on the side, at a diner called The Maze Runner at around 5 o’clock. However, our meal was abruptly interrupted by two Lovers who started out discussing the weather, but ended up having a big argument. This ultimately turned into heartbreak, since the result of the argument ended in a break-up between Smith and Wesson, who prior to his exit screamed “and FYI, you look like shit today Smith”. Afterwards, we left the diner feeling a bit stunned due to the preceding events, and then suddenly we realized that we had ordered too much French toast, and we were really in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s. Therefore, we decided that we would “donate” our leftovers to a homeless person, and where better to find one than Central Park? We walked up and down the park for a long time, walking past both swans and pigeons, but no homeless people. Therefore, feeling defeated, we decided to walk home towards our hostel called Mélanecolie. However, on our way home somewhere around Shakespeare Garden, we walked past a man, approximately in his mid-50s, who was sitting on a bench with a plastic pony attached to him by a chain and a lock. We were not quite sure whether or not this man was an actual homeless person, so we walked past him a few times. In our attempt to determine whether or not this man was a person in need of some rather delicious and now cold leftovers, we witnessed him talking to himself and saw him playing with his toy pony he called Uranus. To top it off he was wearing a worn old rain cover with the famous slogan I’m lovin’ it, no shoes which presumably had culminated in his dirty and infected toenails. Both of us were finally pretty convinced that he in fact was a homeless person and that he would benefit from some food. Sine approached the man slowly and offered him the food whilst saying, “hello sir, would you like this French toast?” to which he loudly and angrily replied, “stop I am not fucking homeless, my name is Oetker, Dr. Oetker, my wife is just out looking for free parking”. Sine immediately felt embarrassed and apologized profusely, which I found rather amusing. Then about 100 meters from that bench, we saw another man sleeping on yet another bench with a white dove right above his face, and so we decided to leave the food with him with a note that said “enjoy”. It is tough being good Samaritans.

 Chills 

The snow delivers cold chills

The Winter is to blame

The human holster reacts accordingly,

By generating still thrills

Spring turns snow into liquid forms

The mind; washed not but rinsed

The forthcoming phase is allegedly,

One of warmer chills

(my words: rinsed but not washed)