The campground we
are staying in
this week has fancy toilet paper
in the bathroom. The quilted kind
with flowers and butterflies
like a grandma’s house, and it spins
on the roll the way toilet paper should.
At the intersection of the freeway and the
main road, as we pulled through,
there was a person holding a
cardboard sign. The person presented as a
conventionally attractive cis male, so I will
gender him “he,” though I have no way of
knowing. As I drove closer, the sign read,
will work for food.
I’ve done my fair share of working for food,
though I never held a sign in the road in
high summer heat to do so. He looked like he
needed a shower, but otherwise he was just
walkin’ down the road; no backpack,
no belongings, just a man and his body.
I made a double batch of trail mix;
enough to fill the Tupperware container &
the tub the peanuts came in. I
rolled down the window,
“Hey, man, you hungry?”
He looked me up and down and
raised his eyebrows,
yeah, man… anything.
Left arm, with my sleeve,
out the window, holding the peanut tub,
Thank you, brother. God bless you.