The Man Who Lived in my Car

I had a friend in trouble. He moved into my car. I wrote about it. The picture in the avatar is the bar behind my old home.

The Man Who Lived in my Car

 

 

 

His name was Santos

Short, peaceful, Mexican

He was my new neighbor

In the eight unit beach bungalows

That sat on the corner of 22^nd and pacific.

He lived across from me.

 

Happy

Smiling

More mouse than man

He told me Diablo

Lived in bar

Behind my Beach Bungalow

 

He was a good amigo

Had a fine brown van

And dated Apollonia’s mother

Life was muy bien

For my new friend

 

After a little while

Santos returned to the bar

Behind our home

To drink with Diablo

 

In a matter of months

He lost everything

His home

Van

And Apollonia’s mother

 

The bar life will

Drain a man.

Leaves him soulless

Leaves him homeless

Leaves him lifeless

 

He came to me one night

One Cold Harbor night

And asked me if he could

Sleep in

my

car

 

A four door

1989 Toyota corolla

I purchased from a Chinese student

Who attended Cal state long beach

Two doors worked

Two windows didn’t

The heat never did

 

I said yes

 

Before I left for work each morning

To baby sit the urban youth

I woke my sleepless, homeless friend

He lived in my car for six months

This was our routine

In a few weeks our routine would change

 

I later found plastic packets with a white dusty residue

I ignored them

I did not

I could not

 

 

My car became his temporary casa.

Driver side: bedroom

Passenger side: living room

Back seat: Kitchen, den, and foyer

 

During the morning when I woke him

He would jump out of the car

He would grab his green duffle bag

And hobble off

To the streets of San Pedro

 

My landlord was Roy

A self made Millionaire, who lived in Bixby Knolls but was from Allentown, PA

Roy owned a recycling plant

Roy owned a plane

 

Roy found out Santo was living

 In

My

 Car

 

He told me he had to go

He had caught him shitting in the alley

At that moment I thought Roy

Needed another hobby.

 

Roy said it was illegal to have

Homeless Mexican men

Who drank with Diablo

And dated Apollonia’s mother

In

My

Car

 

That night I saw Santos

He invited two other people

 Into

 My

 Car

 

His home

They were addicts

Drug abusers.

I told Santos his lease was up

He and the addicts disappeared

Into the alley

Behind the bar

Were the devil drank

 

A month later I told Roy I had to go

I packed the housecar and drove to Carson

 

A little while later

Roy’s plane hit a Mountain in Alaska

 

I guess God don’t like ugly

Even if he owned a plane.

 

 

Author's Note

please, comments, conversation, edits, love hates. I must say I love the comments some of you are very intelligent thinkers.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Good ending for Roy. I like the story. I like the description of the life of Santos. A lot of good people can fall down. Good to have someone give a little kindness. I drank with the Devil a few times on the beach in Santa Cruz. Thank you for the excellent story.
Coyote

[InkSlinger]

Took me two reads to fully appreciate this piece. I liked it much more the second time through.. You have the feel of a great storyteller. Not a lot of words expended to affectively conveyed the whole story. The short lines give it drama, and build tension.. Enjoyed the story overall.. nicely penned!

[KAOlmsted]

thank you for the invite. I liked this piece very much. It smacks of realism which I find the best poetry does. Ranting and raving about homeless people and blaming American society on their plight bores me silly. You offered a solution and when that solution was no longer working for you, you simply told the homeless man his lease was up...excellent. As for Roy, well, you really gotta watch out for those mountains we have up here ;-) That last verse made me smile.

[Sunni Davis]

Roy seemed to be a pompus a*s so I'm not sorry about his ending. And how touching for you to allow Santos to stay in your car. It shows the depth of your heart and soul. Very nicely written! Oh, by the way, Allentown is about 45 minutes west of me so it was interesting to see that referenced here.

[Calypso]

Quirky tale! I want a Mexican in my car.

[Greg the Bard]

I really liked the ending too. This is a great story about America today.

[Christina May Shanaberg]

I guess, the main thing that people don't understand is that we don't have addictions, they have us. We can set the lows that these addictions will take us to; however, sometimes it appears that we are not in control of that, even. Keeping him in your car was good, because you should never let another man's addiction become a part of your home. As for Roy, your apartment was his income and he couldn't have someone pooping in the alleyway. As for Santos, he never looked back, but moved onto the same life. This a sad, sad senario that plays out again and again. Are we helping or hurting them with our help? I thought provoking write!

[K.C. Zbryk]

The way thst this is simply stated adds to the power of the ending. Simply, god dont like ugly even if he owned a plane, and the description of Santo made you truly feel for him untill he brought about his own eviction. In the end this almost feels like everything will work itself out even if it feels like you have no controll. What was the phrase, God will sort out his own...

[Ursula Kay Vos]

I like the turn about for Roy the landlord. The desolation for your friend, Santos is a hard sombering truth which is sad, and I like that about your writing. You don't edit the truths for pretty story telling. In places the poem read very fluidly and others somewhat broken with the rythm, and I am not sure if that was by design or not. It does work with this particular subject but may work better if described as a story. Of course that is only my opinion :) One quick note and again this is just my opinion, I may add a short musing at the end that would maybe reminise about your friend and what came to be of him... Something like,
Walking the streets of Carson
I looked back at my friend who lived in my car
I wonder sometimes
what happened to him
If he still drinks with the devil
and plays with bags of powder
behind old dusty bars

and then continue as you closed. But then that is my style ;)
I love your writing but I dont like reviewing and just writing a two word review either :)
Thank you for sharing!
Always a pleasure!
Collette

[Amila Jay]

Woah! cool write:)