On Your Way Down

For a long time I went unnoticed. It's fairly easy when you're homeless. No one really wants to see you, even if they toss you some change or maybe a dollar. I watched the sun rise over the tall buildings, and let it warm me. It had been a cold night, and even with the bedding collected over the last months, it was chilly. At least it would be warm until the sun went back down. The long grey scraggly beard wasn't some kind of prop, it just grew that way. The old clothes and the smell weren't meant to hide me either, it was simply a function of trying to live.

I knew it would happen. It was only a matter of time. Some young man in a decently priced suit kicked my cup of change like he was trying to win a football game. My initial hope was that he was just a mean prick, but that faded in an instant when he turned and spoke.

"You foreclosed on my parents house, scumbag." He hissed, "And that smug look when you did it is gone now, isn't it?"

He pulled out his wallet, took out a $100 bill, tore it in half and threw one of the pieces at me. "Enjoy life on the street."

Once he moved on I scrambled to collect the small sum he'd scattered. It wasn't much, but it might keep me alive a little longer. Survival means something so different now. I used to drink wines that others wouldn't dare open. Now I hoped for a pint of rot gut to help me sleep. I was the head of one of the largest banks in the world! I commanded respect, and enjoyed the life. The people beneath me were they just something on which I walked. Why worry about them? I was the guy flying over them in a private jet. But then it only took one stock tip -- not even a good one -- to undo everything. I was convicted and lost everything, including my family, possessions, wealth, and my self-worth. But that was old news, and I had to deal with the present.

I considered moving a little after the confrontation, but what would a few blocks do? Nothing. Move any more than that, you can run into trouble. All I could hope was he was done with me. He wasn't. He posted who I was, what I'd done, and where I was currently located to several social media sites. One of the girls who lives in our alley is a computer wizard, and she told me.

I bunked down that night, watching the tiny cook fires going, and knew the attitude about me here had changed. It was time to go, because no one was going to forget that I was now a liability. There was just one problem. Without money, how am I supposed to go anywhere? It's not as if you can just walk to a new city. There wasn't much to bundle up, especially since there was only so much weight a man can carry on his back. The bus station was as good a destination as any, and maybe I could beg enough money for a ticket to a different city. It's a dangerous move, but the choices were limited.

I saw them a fraction of a second before they saw me. Four guys, dressed much too nicely for this alley, and were clearly looking for me. They each carried an instrument to bludgeon, and bile stung the inside of my mouth as fear gripped my body. The usual fight or flight response didn't kick in, and I just froze. I remembered them, only vaguely at first. They were brothers or some blood relatives. The wolfish smiles on their faces must have looked somewhat like mine when I took their tavern founded a century ago by their family. If I ran I wouldn't make it to the street, there was no way I could fight them myself, and no one was going to help me.

"Well hello, Mister Grant! So good to see you again." One of them said with a sneer.
"It might have paid dividends to have been a little nicer when I was on top." I thought to myself. Then the first blow hit me and I went down.

(WC:725)


On Your Way Down

Sunrise, sunset
Since the beginning, it hasn't changed yet
People fly high, begin to loose sight
But you can't see very clearly, when you're in flight

Well it's high time
That you find
The same people that you must use on your way up
You might meet up -- on your way down

Vintage wines from the year sixty two
Is your thing, is your thing
Is your thing, is your thing
What pleases you
Not to be found for you cross town
The thing is for other girls just to have you around

Well it's high time
That you find
The same dudes that you must use on your way up
You might meet up -- on your way down

You feel the sunrise, set for you
But the same sunrise is step and shine, for the old folks due
I don't mind, your turn around
I myself would even like for a little higher ground

It's high time
That you find Mr G
The same people you work hard on your way up
You might meet up -- on your way down

Songwriter: Allen Toussaint