[h2][color=000000]Filthy Frank.[/color][/h2]
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[i]Streets’re gray.  They’re movin’ slowly, like the sky.  If I lookin’ up, the sky is movin’ slowly too. Sometimes the clouds look different. I keep fo’gettin’, but mah jaw hurts. Mah hand feels sweat against this skin, all stubble and stick. I can smell mah fingers. They remind me of me. I can smell them again. They dirty, and I have dirt inside the nose, now, too. Like Ma use tuh tell me, wash ‘tween ‘me ears. I think I should wash between mah noses, aight. So, I do. I do it, again. It feels good. I stop washin’ and lookin’ at mah hands. Mah fingers are stick.  I put ‘em in mah mouth. The man says tuh stop doing that, and I remembe’ed. I fo’get some how many times I ‘membered or forgetted. It don’t mattuh. I put the stick in mah hair. It cures all knotty-knack. Not like Ma’s. Hers was knotty fer nottin’.  I like her hair. All dark like bedtime. Smelleds good too.

I think ‘bout her sometimes.  All teeth face witt soggy skin. She wasn’t always real soft like clouds.  ‘Cept I play like she could be.  All snooped and hurt and ready tuh love me witt her arms. She’d rock me like a boat at night. If I move mah head real fastly I get that similar feel. I do it right now and hum a lil’bit. Mah voice sounds the same as it did the last time I hea’d it. That wasn’t not tuh long ago. I like the sound.

Mah eyes don’t think they like workin’, though.  I try, again. They do, too. Closed mah eyes fer so long, tryin’ tuh ‘member and not fo’get Ma. The man says tuh stop bein’ a fool. He seems sad. All pent and got no family. His wife never done shown up, so he ain’t can marry her. I look fer ‘em, but the womyn get squirrelleh witt me. Like, Miss-uh Joanne-uh. She got so much o’pretty most faces. Her eyehairs are nice. All pretty and girl. She look bright, yeah. Too bright like the lights at night, I think her flaw is.

The light make it hard tuh see. Really can’t see. I cunt see in the dark ‘cause o’them.  Mah eyes don’t think they don’t like workin’ then. It makes sleepin’s harder than this here bench. It don’t mattuh. Night is gone for a lil’while. Might as well enjoy the sun and dem slow movin’ clouds, all fluffleh and cute. I wipe mah fingers, still stick and gooey, on mah jacket. Pullin’ a smile from mah pocket, I wipe mah fingers over mah grin. Today’s a good day tuh be alive.

Got ‘em flowers from the rose ga’den. Remind me e’ryday tuh be thankful I got life in me. Ma always say, Life’s a gift, Frank. An’ I believe her. She knew what she sayin’. I hum a bit mo’ an’ look up at those purty clouds and sky and say tuh the Sun, “Good morning sun! Rise and shine today!” Legs kick a bit witt excitement against the seat. I got the perfect spot t’day. Gunna fine the man a wife o’his and maybe tell Miss-uh-miss Jo-uh-anne she got a spa’kle in her eye. Kinduh nervous witt mah fingers, fiddlin’ witt the floweh stems. Mah cheeks feel it, too. Yeh, it’s uh good day, 'specially tuh be Frank.[/i]

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