‘Pretty good. You have a nice voice. Don’t you know the leads?’ ‘Nah… lead guitar is for pretty boys and narcissists. I’m more substance t...an style,’ I smiled. ‘You play rhythm or bass,’ she said. ‘Give the lady a kewpie doll,’ I grinned. ‘Mind if I sit with you? I didn’t mean to bother you but I heard you playing and wanted to listen.’ I stood up, giving up my chair. ‘Here, sit down and hold this. I’ll find another one.’ I immediately went over to my truck and grabbed another chair and went. His stance on the homeless, I thought, was abysmal. Most Fridays I volunteered at a soup kitchen, though it produced far better fare than soup. It was held at a local homeless shelter. I enjoyed the work, finding it fulfilling to help those who had less than me.I could edit the mayor so he would think about the homeless. Be more compassionate. I pulled out a legal pad, jotting down my notes, organizing my mind. He could propose new ordinances, make it so the city helped out to end. More

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