Elizabeth Swados Chris His eyes are deep in their sockets. "Hiya" he says. Half his teeth are gone. "Crackhead" I think to myself. He holds out a Styrofoam cup in his filthy hand. "Crackhead Methhead" I think to myself. "The American journalist was convicted in Iran," he says. How could he know that and not me? "Obama shook Gomez's hand." I know that. Gestures going on everywhere. "Breathe more frequently through your nose. It strengthens your lungs and is good for the planet." Crackhead. I give him his regular morning dollar. "Get coffee, Chris, not poison," I say. "There's evidence that there was water flow on Mars thank you very much."

Photo: E. Galland

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