I WAS THE ONE THAT WASN'T

3. I WAS THE ONE THAT WASN’T:

It never came as a surprise to me that leftover people gravitated to each other – thus the clutches of bums and cripples the indigent and unwanted the criminal and the piker all hanging together at streets’ ends and grassy parks along roadways or under abutements – for a singular language of sameness and a shared sense of love and lost-love and bad opportunity and missed fortunes all come to one piece as around each other they shelter and harbor whatever left there may be and it’s heard in their words and seen in their eyes how they each clamor to share in the solace which each somehow affords the other – the man with the one bad eye and disfigured face meets the one with the withered hand (and together they enter grace)...