Ole George

I often see Ole George sitting on the curb, just outside of Buddy’s.



Ole George don’t talk much. Best you can do is get a word or two out, and that’s on a good day.

Nobody knows where he lives. He seems to like sitting on the curb, just outside of Buddy’s.



I don’t know his story, but he looks kind of skinny. I got a hunch he could use a couple of bucks, and now and then I’ll slip him some. He nods a thanks.

It don’t matter how hot it is, Ole George always wears a thick jacket. He has a knapsack, usually hidden behind the ice machine.

I sometimes see him walking along the highway when he ain’t sitting on a curb, just outside of Buddy’s. I don’t know where he goes. He won’t say.



I wonder about Ole George. His life, his loves, his story.



But, like I said, Ole George don’t say much. Best you can do is get is a word or two out, and that’s on a good day.



God bless you, Ole George.