The studied pieta working for the chap against the Myers’ window, by the old GPO. Head bowed, dark hair falling loose and hanging on his forehead. Averted, hidden eyes was taking on now, becoming common among the fraternity. Even many of the harder lads had picked it up.
This chap in addition turns his head aside, skewed and twisted, as if in death throes.
Bowed, downcast & contorted. With the sparse black beard, the posture highly suggestive.
As it indeed quickly proves, drawing a young ALPHAVILLE bag, who drops a full to overflowing fistful of coin into the receptacle.
Not less than $10 clattering, for all the predominance of silver.
Nothing on the other side. Not a flicker. That would break the spell.
More than likely the girl adopts them like the rest of us. A fellow this good might score one of these days—like the hobos in Central Park back when.
Sure enough, 30m on, the Gippslander just turned from a seated shopper, who had denied him. The winter coat made it a hard foot-slog in that weather, and it showed. (The other sported a royal blue shirt; the less scruffy the better in the middle of town.)
That’s Wayne, Gippslander informs when the news was conveyed. One of the man’s usual chin nods.
It’s been a few weeks. Gippslander was relieved to have found a regular.
Nnothing all day and needed $8 for the train to Taralgon to see the kids.
On earlier meets the Gippslander said he hadn’t seen the kids for nearly a year. Today he’s more vague.
Sunburnt. Light coloured jacket dirty. An awkward gait after these months of living rough and sleeping in the tram shelter up near the Zoo.
Not much to recommend the Gippslander. A drunk at a glance.
In fact Wayne is the one further along the Mall, with the pictures spread round. The pics were a new development for Wayne, his artistic talent absent years past.
It was Wayne who had been one of the first to adopt the crestfallen, pained bow. In those early days he had used a cowl-like hood, summer & winter. Not a standard hoodie; something more ecclesiastical.
Bowed at the pavement, penitent par excellence. Passers-by couldn't help themselves.
Wayne did well. Sometimes late in the afternoon you saw him up near the market, making for one of the half-way houses, presumably.
The other, the blue shirt, Gippslander doesn’t know. New on the scene.
Nothing of peevishness noticeable; the Gippslander doesn't begrudge the takings.
Chin wagging a number of times. No glass jaw that; no brittleness about the Gippslander.
Tilt of head, straight gaze, leading with the chin from his corner—the Gippslander's petition stops you in your tracks and stays days after.
Bourke Street Mall, Oct 2010
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