Queers in the country, y'all.

This is just going to be a fun morning, or rather early afternoon, entry. In the last few weeks I have left behind a life in Guadeloupe, been skinny dipping in fancy hotels in Miami, been (almost) present at the scene of a shooting (I was still around the corner at the time), spent long hours on trains and buses and just yesterday, I was 'howdy-ing' the Tennessee locals as I tried to seduce them with home-grown garden produce.
Life is full of surprises. One moment you are crying amongst pigeons in a public park and the next sipping coffee as you discuss history and foreign currency with a new-found friend. Here is a conversation I had that probably saved my sanity about a week ago, it is now a poem of sorts that I've entitled HELP.
-What's your name?
Joshua.
-I'm Matt
Do you have anything cool to give me?
-What do you mean? I don't know...
I collect things, stuff. I draw as well. You can draw the things you collect.
-Hang on! Yeah, I think I might... Here it's a stencil I made.
Oh cool I like that. (He looks intensely at the image of Batman and Robin making out before carefully folding it and slipping it in to a small plastic bag).
I have this coin, it's from some country.
-Let me see... Ohh it's a coin from French West Africa, see the 'F'? I think that that means franc from West Africa, it's a coin from Africa.
(I search my backpack and pass him an Eastern Caribbeann dollar that I've carried with me since Dominica).
Wow that's cool
-You can keep it... What do you draw? May I see?
Yeah I draw things. These aren't mine but I draw everything I see, I want to get to college. THIS eye, I started drawing that, you can kind of see it somewhere. What's your name?
-Matt
I'm Joshua.

I showed him my passport, everything I had I wanted to give to him; leave him behind with a moment of stability that might last forever. He'd given me that moment. As I sat under the glare of CNN, watching images of Osama's body projected into the eyes of bored bus travellers, I sadly thought of him. Why? He was tall, had crooked teeth, blue eyes, had been in jail for three years and we shared the same age. More importantly, he was lonely. And together for a few hours, our loneliness was beautiful.

That was a week ago. I am now living in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, in a wooded valley amongst the delightful company of queers. I garden everyday and in the evening as the frogs croak to the stars and night-birds swoon each other above dark meadows, we laugh, organise and eat delicious vegan food. I have to stop, there is weeding to be done.