PETER THE HOMELESS

Years ago I knew an old and an ugly man named Peter and called the homeless by other men, likes me gossipy neighbors.

Peter was an interesting and a strange individual who lived of our lazy and stingy charity on the parks and on the streets of Buenos Aires city.

No, I don´t know his age, but I believe he was about a thousand years old, more or less. Maybe more than less! Or perhaps less than more! Who knows!

Peter was a homeless but not all the time, not all the past years of his life and not in the future green year of Argentine always promised by ours talkative governments.  Indeed I don´t believe that, but God follows save this in mortal politic utopia!

Peter had an awful personality.  Also he was an ancient alcoholic and he was an addict to the red wine. The wine is delicious but the wine as an addiction is dangerous for an ape always called man by the dictionary.

Twenty years before - he tells me - he was a very rich farmer, married with a beautiful and a glad wife, a very sunny girl often by him named with irony affection my lovely “Bitch”.  He loved her very much, but she died in a car accident killed by his alcoholic husband. 

Yes, you are right, unfortunately Peter drove that car! Poor car!   And poor Peter because he lost his license of driver! What a disgrace! Indeed, like me he was a loser!

No, no, him didn´t smoke cigarettes or Cuban cigars or another kind of toxic tobacco. Never, never! But certainly - he says me - he smoked a lot of opium but don´t worry only during all the night.

How did he like in that happy and sane time with those crazy and sad nights and days?

Almost I don´t remember. One moment please! Let me see, let me remember!

Well! Now, however the years ago, I can´t forget his ruined shoes and his dirty toes.

Sure, I think, Peter – like my black cat – didn´t loved the shower and the water! Poor man, poor cat, but worst poor my nose! Push! I remember that bad smell!

Jovialiste Buenos Aires, febrero 1 del 2015