“I want my name back” by Kaze Gadway
“Hey, want some water,” I call out.
A man in his twenties comes over with eyes darting around.
“I remember you from last week,” I say. “How have you been doing?”
We exchange names again and he starts talking.
“The police told me I can’t sleep here so I had to move twice last night. Look!” He shows me his picture I.D. “I have a name. Just because I sleep on the street doesn’t mean that I am nothing.”
He shows me his Social Security card. “Look! I’ve worked. I’ve made my way. I don’t have a job now but I still look for one. I have all this identification and they still refuse to say my name. You call me by my name. What’s wrong with them?”
He looks away from me as though the distant air can give him answers.
“All I want is my name back. Is that too much to ask?”