Today I sat beside a drifter who was drinking water with sweetener (from Mentos) and lemon. I was trying to write my story but he wanted to keep talking. He spoke of how his male boss tried to seduce him, bribing him with a promotion. He spoke too of wanting to make friends in LA and break the walls keeping him from expanding socially; before recounting old stories of racial prejudice in his hometown of Wichita, Kansas. I made it seem like I had stuff to do. He apologized. He then began to sing and he had a lovely voice. He was like an angel trapped in some kind of garbage of shitty circumstances. And I hold guilt and beat myself up now for not being more open to this man, for running away from him like some little suburban boy child, which may be all that I am.