Click-ity Click

He’s a fixture in the Beltline neighbourhood in Calgary.

He’s seen, but not touched, physically or spiritually. He’s always on the move. He sprints. His approach is signaled by the double click-ity-click of his two joined shopping carts as they pass over the creases in the sidewalk a block away. He’s always going somewhere.

The first shopping cart holds his personal belongings. And cleaning equipment. The broom. The pail. The second cart contains all the recyclables he finds on his daily journeys as well as the garbage he retrieves that’s been thrown to the boulevards.

He’s dressed entirely in black, a sweaty pain in the bright summer sun. He’s dirty, unshaven and disheveled. His running shoes need retreading.

He seems to be running from people and places rather than running to somewhere.

When he tires, when the sun takes its toll, he stops, lays down and pulls a blanket over his head. He makes no attempt to move off the sidewalk or on to the grass or around a corner.

As I pass, I check to see he’s breathing.

On the day in the near future when he stops breathing, another homeless man will come along and leave the scene with the shopping carts.

Click-ity-click, click-ity-click, click-ity-click.

Inspiration Seed

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