a lot can change in 13 years

julie warshaw

1999

There is a white, dreadlocked, twenty-something who parks themselves outside the doors of my neighborhood Walgreens, nightly. I’m honestly not sure if this person is a guy or a girl. They’re thin, shoulder length dark blonde dreads, and always wear polo-style shirts. I’ve seen two people give this person money. Our only interaction was one time when, upon watching me exit the store with a six-pack, they said “I can help you with that.” Oh yeah? Can you? I don’t think you want to help me with this beer. The money that bought this beer has health insurance and thinks the occupy movement is an embarrassment. This beer embraces vaccinations, guns and Trickle Down Economics. I’m not trying to be a prick, but look around. The vast majority of homeless in Miami are debilitated in one way or another and desperately need help. I’m tired of walking the gauntlet of self-righteous hippie judgement when I need cat food after 10pm. You gotta go, dude. Try the beach. Or Oregon.

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