The other night Sarah had been helping me move and we were having a beer on her porch. It wasn’t too late, about 1:00. A drunk old man rode his bike up the street singing a song I think he had written. “Jesus, I’m coming to you, I’m tired and want to take your hand. Jesus I’m tired, I’m weary but I know that you understand.” He sang this line over and over again in a deep, haggard voice. He started to ride past us but when he saw us on the porch he turned around. Sarah groaned. “Damn, this will take a minute.” He hopped off his bike and sat on the ground in front of the porch, staring at us. “Hi, I don’t mean to disturb you, is she your girlfriend?” “No, she’s a very good friend of mine.” “Have you looked at her and thought about how you appreciate her tonight?” “Of course I have!” “Do you mind if I sing to you for a second?” “That’d be great.” He stops for a second, looks at both of us and points to Sarah. “Is your mother still with us?” “Yeah, she is.” He points at me. “Your mother alive young man?” “She is.” He pauses, looks at me for a moment, looks to the ground and starts to sing, beating the rhythm on his chest. His song didn’t really rhyme and he struggled to remember the words. It clearly meant a lot to him and he looked strained when he sang.
“Mother the times you woke me up, the breakfast you made me, the nights you stayed up late, the love that you gave me”
He paused after every few lines trying to remember how it went. When he was done singing Sarah and I told him it was nice and were glad he sang for us, but were both tired and were hoping he’d leave.
He shook his head and looked at us. “I’m going to kill myself.”
We stared at him and then at each other for a moment. “I’m gonna take a gun, put it to my head and POP!” He made a motion of shooting himself in the head. He sunk his head and started singing some Steve Miller Band song. This made Sarah start laughing for a moment and I had to stifle it for myself, but we both stayed quiet and stared at him. When he stopped, I spoke up and said something inane but wanted to help. “You don’t wanna do that man.”
“Do you guys have a cigarette I can have?” Sarah gave him a cigarette. He started smoking and stood up. “I’m sorry to bother you folks, you two are real nice.” He hopped on his bike and made a motion swiping across his neck. “I’m gonna slit my throat.” Sarah and I both told him he didn’t wanna do that. “Thank ya’ll, ya’ll have a good night!”
And then he rode away singing Steve Miller Band.
