Last night outside a bar on Dectaur Street, New Orleans, a man approached me as I stood leaning against a brick wall:


“Oh, hey man.”

“You, uh—what are you doing?”

“I’m just waiting for my friend to get off work.”

“You OK?”

“I’m OK.”

“You should go to a—a nicer place.”

“I hope to be in a nicer place soon.”

“I hope so too. Good-night.”