…

“I had a friend named Ajay back east.”

“I have a friend named nobody.”

“So what do you want a knife for, Ajay?”

“To stab the perverts who try and cuddle with me. They do it a lot—there are a lot of perverts around here, nasty old men.”

“Stabbing a man who tries to molest you will put the cops on his side and you will get locked up. I have a fighting knife for suicide by cop in case they want to arrest me for defending myself with my cane or hands. I also have a Leatherman, which is no good for defense, and a spare fighter, which I won't give you because it will get you in trouble. They were all given to me. Speaking of which, this pack is getting too heavy for my guts and I need to lighten it. So how about some clothes?”

“Sure! To be warm again would be great!”

“There is not a thing in this bag that I bought. Not even the bag. It was all given. I've been homeless for three years now and lucky about it.”

She crowded close, “Girl, don't get within arm's reach of a strange man. You don't know me.”

“Yes sir.” and she pranced back a step and bounced.

“Here, my sister gave me this Johns' Hopkins hat.”

“Bra, thanks! It's so warm under my hood!”

“Banjo gave me the Achilles shirt, Mescaline the Home Land Security 1492, Big Al the fight shirt for getting Kayoed on his promotion in 2009 and Many and Mary gave me the Bob Seager Final Tour shirt. I need to keep those.”

“Here, Barbara gave me this Ocean City muscle shirt just before she tried to kill me in 2009.”

“2009 was a rough year, huh... oh, this is so soft and big,” as she slid on the big blue sleeveless T.

“Jason would surely find you a home if he were here, so I'm sure he'd like me giving you this Ciccada 2021 world tour shirt he gave me in Baltimore this July.”

“Oh, that's so warm—I'm almost warm again!”

“Here, Mom mailed me these gloves in 2019. The man I'm staying with has plenty of gloves. I need the spare boot strings and you aren't strong enough to strangle a pervert with them anyhow.”

[she giggles]

The gloves pulled nearly up to her little elbows, she danced and raised her arms into the night, “I'm warm, warm, warm!” she peeped.

Unlacing a bandanna from the pack I said, “Here, a scarf. Hide that pretty face from the fiends.”

“She then tied on the bandanna like a desert camo hijab! And all you could see was the green sparkle of her watery eyes.”

“A knife?”

“Look, I've been hunted by black men my whole life in Baltimore, 38 years, and here I am, without stabbing one. You need a blade for last ditch defense. But if its your first line, you're going to be doing time.”

“Speaking of which, all of the older, pervert men who want to force me to cuddle, they are black, even here in Salt Lake City with almost no blacks, all the pervert cuddle-bugs are black!”

“Hell, girl, Negroes will cuddle with anything—even me if I let them.”

[laughter]

She mimed her last attack and said, “Look, he put me in a headlock when I wouldn't cuddle with him. Lucky I was born in August and have a sharp chin. So I did my brother's old wrestling trick and dug my chin into his arm until he let go. I'm slippery, hard to hold, so I got away. Look, at the bruise.”

She pulled up the shirt to show a pale bruised tricep and I commented, “That was his thumb. You're luck he didn't hook an arm. What are you a hundred and five pounds?”

“No, one-eighteen, heavier than I look.”

“Look, what the black girls do in Baltimore is carry a razor. They mainly do it to carve up a prettier girl's face. But you can get a razor knife or case cutter, something easy to slide out of a pocket in the hand and open in one hand. You let him take you high. He will go for head, hood, shoulder sleeve, upper arm, and then you slice his junk to ribbons and run, throw the razor in a sewer and keep going. He'll head to the hospital to see if he can get his junk salvaged.”

“Feel this cane.”

“Oh my God, it could wreck a car!”

“That is too heavy for you. But you can get one of those pointy Walmart umbrellas for six bucks and stab him in the belly if he comes for you. Step back stab him in the face. If he grabs it, let him keep it and run.”

“Sure, I'm willing to stab.”

“Now, if you are in arms length—and I'm proud of you for keeping a pace and a half off from me since I warned you—rake the eyes with your extended, closed and slightly bent fingers like this. At the very least his head will pull back and away, which locks up his hips and gives you a step lead.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, well-done, like that. Now again, at my eyes...good, see how my hips lock when I lean back and away?”

“Yes.”

“Now, most importantly, you need to practice stepping off.”

“Like this?”

“No. you stepped back, but brought the lagging foot up next to the other. Do it again and drag the other foot only half way along.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, good job.”

She repeats motion.

“Now, see what direction the rear foot you stepped back with is pointing?”

“Yeah, left, kind of to the side.”

“Perfect. Go with that angle, push off with that foot in the direction it is pointed, to my side and dart behind the shelter and get to the station.”

She does a slow practice sprint, and comes back around the shelter, “Thanks, I'll practice, promise. It's getting weird out here.”

“Good, and get back to Ogden.”

She grimaces and then smiles as she looks down at my boots, recovers and says, “That deserves a fist bump!”

We bump fists through her new gloves and she darts off as instructed, then sneaks behind the shelter, pops out the other end and asks, “Sure you don't want this food?”

“No thanks, Ajay.”

“Bye then, Bra, happy day and good luck!”

She skipped off towards the station as I saw the high lights of Bob's monster pickup truck ahead and soon herd the rumbling of the engine and walk towards the approaching truck.

“Need a lift?”

“Sure, thanks, man.”

“That is what a brother does, James.”