Traveling Poem by Jorge Garcia

I traveled to the city
just the other day
looking for the library

A phone call
was interrupted
by a black man
who reminded me
of an aging
Gil Scott-Heron

He had overheard me
and told me he would take me there
to the library

I didn't trust him
for the city is no friend of mine
and likewise
I am no friend to him

Hesitantly I followed
through the sprawl
of cars
and asphalt
and broken-up
brick passageways
and pedestrian crossings

When we arrived
he turned to me and said
that he had a problem

his face was light in the sun
but his heart was dark
dark with addiction
if this intuition
serves me well
he explained
with a deeply sorrowful face
that he misses his wife
and his daughter
somewhere in North Carolina
I didn't believe him at all
but I still gave him 5 bucks
to leave me alone
and most likely buy
his alcohol or his crack

I wondered that day
how cynical I was
or how honestly
terrible the world was

I'd like to think
it's just me
but at the same end...