A Dozen Years Ago

It has been over a dozen years
since I showed up in Orlando, Florida
to attempt a start in my life.
I still don't feel that that ever happened.

I was 19
and I looked like I was 15.
I had a young
nearly blank
face.
(I wore my misery well.)

I was technically homeless
and totally broke.

I got a job as a security guard
had a friend shave my head
and I would spend my night shifts
walking up and down stairs
in and out of offices
and hiding
to read.

One of those first nights
I went to the top of the building I was "guarding":
it was the public defender's office in downtown Orlando.
I went out onto the roof
and looked down on the city.
I could hear the traffic,
the chatter of people,
and the generic reggae music.
I could smell the clove cigarettes,
street vendors' fried foods,
and the warm, Floridian night air.

I was starving-
rail thin.
I was pimpled and naive.
I had so, SO much more to endure and learn.
But
what should have been the scariest time of my life
was terribly exciting.
Most of all: I knew that my life wasn't ending...
not just yet.

That was all I needed then.