I left the club and my friends fed up with it all.
I hunched my shoulders against the wind, and followed the sound of my own footfall.
I bumped into a bundle of cloth, shocked to find an old lady inside.I made my apologies and offer hot coffee.
I need company.
“I’ve never met a polite gangster” she said.
I found out from her, the bundle was her home, no family, no friends, she was alone.
I offer food and comfort, if only for a while.
“I’ve never met a kind gangster”
I found in her a piece of myself i kept trying to hide.
That part of me that missed the selfless love of family, and the comradery of true friendship.
I told her so.
“I’ve never met a lonely gamgster”
Tears in her eyes as she tells me of the son the gangs had taken, stolen from her.
The daughter drugs had killed.
The husband who had tried to fight but lost, to the black hearted streets.
I cried with her.
“I’ve never met a compassionate gangster”
She told me of her god.
Who had a purpose for us all, and her faith that someday she would be with him.
She told me she saw him in me, that i was a blessing. I prayed with her.
“I’ve never met a humble gangster”
An old woman’s hand cups my cheek,
I look into eyes that have seen many worlds pass by.
“My son inside you there is no gangster.”
her final tears were shed, as her final words touched the heart of a former gangster.