Junkie

I stand on the sidewalk confused. A garbage truck passes through a standing puddle on the street; it splashes to soak my pant leg. “What luck” I say to myself. A junkie wearing the signature crooked smile passing along the sidewalk grins at me. “Tu querer cocaine?” The junkie stops dead in his tracks. “You hab coke mister?” I negotiate a deal, selling him the plastic wrapped package, containing god only knows what. After he leaves the entire city seems to quiet as I venture into myself. Cars pass on the busy street news-stand attendants sell their trappings although I can’t hear a sound of it. I can’t believe I have a daughter, one that I never knew existed, although Reina did mention that the father was an American and I must have mentioned a hundred times that I am Canadian. I take a deep breath as all the sounds of the city reoccur. I don’t know whether to walk into the traffic, clean up or go get a bottle of wine. I opt for the latter. I made enough selling the package to purchase a roll of bread, a small block of white cheese, a big bottle of red Mexican wine, a bus ticket home and I can even pay the land lord half the rent.