pan handled

He stands in the median, in the 89-degree heat, in a faded, green Army jacket and a backpack, holding a sign that reads, ”Homeless; I need a hand.” No one stops to give him one, of course. Most are afraid that he will do something crazy. He might, certainly, for the look in his eyes is more dangerous than bedraggled. Perhaps it’s the beard -- long, unruly, angry. Perhaps it’s the Army jacket – who even wears those, anymore? The boots? Old, Velcro Nikes would be less threatening. Louisa Alyssa Hornet drives by and notices all of this, for she is quite perceptive. She doesn’t stop to help him, for she is not certifiably insane, as she might put it. No, she heads home to do what anyone would, these days – brainstorm a website, this one for hoboes, obviously: The Panhandlers Guide to Survival. After all, she considers herself a humanitarian.