Larry Lansburgh: A man on a bicycle shouting at a fence
A while back, I read an item in The Union’s summary of the local police blotter: a caller reported a man on a bicycle shouting at a fence.
I wondered what he was saying to the fence. He was probably homeless and could have been shouting that he was deeply tired of abusive, insensitive weather, no safe place to sleep, no way to bathe, meals that were little more than lousy scraps of food, being invisible, being weak. Maybe he was answering voices only he could hear — voices that would never, ever help him.
Other callers reported two drunken men yelling at dogs, an unkempt bike rider who had stopped to look at mailboxes, a woman hitting things with a large stick, someone getting in and out of a car and then in and out of a large box on the ground, an intruder who broke into a vacant vacation rental and then defecated on the bathroom floor and glued drawers shut.
Someone also reported a man on a street corner screaming, “Why? Why?”
I wish I could answer the man on the street corner.
Larry Lansburgh is the author of a new book of poetry entitled, “A Man on a Bicycle Shouting at a Fence.” He lives in Nevada City.
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