A Shrine for the Drunks

I took a photo of the “Borracho Shrine”.
It’s on Calle Jardiner…a cross made of wood
and metal…propped up against a brick wall
on the ground, next to a wooden pole...
a metal Jesus figure on it...a few dead flowers.
It’s the street where the drunks hang out.
There are ten of them, or none, or in between
when I walk by. They certainly don’t keep
regular hours. I say: “Buenos dias, Hombres”
or, “Hola, Senors” when I pass them, when
they’re there. They are not aggressive, seem
to accept me as part of their world.
They seem very gentle, actually.
Everyone in town must know by now
that that’s where they go… in case anyone
wanted to find one of them. All I know is
they are there sometimes, and sometimes not…
standing around or sitting, their backs against
something solid, (one only hopes). The cross
is across the narrow street from them…about
where they hang out…out of reverence or re-
spect, I guess…I doubt it’s because of fear…
maybe they just like to have God hanging out
with them, like breadsticks: you don’t always
want to eat them but they're nice to have around.

I like them. They are
living whatever life they have…seemingly
without remorse…in their own way. I can feel
love for them without judgement. It’s just
“Hola!”…”Buenos dias!” as I pass by. There’s
something profound in that simplicity. Or, am
I’m reading something into even that… and
They’re all just enlightened drunks…with
Jesus there as some anchor to this world?