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| the southern cassowary |
Johnny looks the age he clearly is- immature. He is skinny
and underfed- he still lives on boxes of cereal and consequentially his skin
battles with acne. His eyes though are clear and sharp and they will surprise
you; they are innocent eyes and you know instantly that this man will do you no
harm.
He studies at the local art school on the days he remembers
to wake up and if he’s not there or in bed you will find him on the bench near
the river a sketch book on his lap. The book will be unopened but his blue eyes
will be watching everything.
This evening I can see him from my balcony, he is doodling
on the cover of the notebook; if he had a dollar for every doodle he wouldn’t
be the struggling artist that his clothes suggest.
“Hey, Johnny what’s up”, I call him from across the street
and even though it’s night time when he turns and looks up his eyes pierce the
darkness.
“You hungry?”
“Yo!”
“Come on up, I’ve just cooked some chicken”
He stands up and shuffles across the street.
“Bring your sketch pad”, he had left it on the bench.
“Yo man, it smells good”, he enters the apartment and the
smell of unwashed clothes
precedes him.
“You need a wash Johnny, go and use the shower then come and
sit down, I’ve got good food and a proposition for you”.
He doesn’t argue, and soon he is whistling as he cleans the
week’s grime from his skinny frame.
“There’s some clean clothes on the shelf, see if you like
any of them”. If this is going to work I need him to look smart.
“Hey, they suit you, you look sharp” I had picked out
fabrics that would highlight his eyes, if I can just do something about the
acne there will be no problem.
“Look we’ve got blueberries, the first of the season help
yourself”.
“Oh man, I haven’t had blueberries for years, where did you
find them?” His enthusiasm can be as disarming as his eyes.
“Sit down, I’ll tell you all about it, and how you can make
a yourself a lot of money.”
“Who needs money?” he replies.
“You do.”
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