Homeless people have senses of humor

Walking out of Safeway with my $7.99 whole roasted chicken in hand, I enter a dark parking lot and realize I'm two short steps behind a man. We're too close. As I slow down to create some space, my brain performs its customary appraisal. He carries a white bucket with a rag and a squeegee in his left hand. He's hardened and weary--the streets are his home. Is he dangerous? Naw. But maybe I should slow up a little more. Struggling between wanting to keep a safe distance and wanting to get home as quickly as possible, my languid stroll comes off as phony. He senses my anxiousness and looks back. I blankly look past him, my strained nonchalance now becoming laughable. As we exit the parking lot onto Bay Street, he looks back again while shouting "Why are you following me?" My first thought is, wow, this guy is dangerous; keep walking, don't respond. Then he says, "I'm just kidding, buddy! Have a good night, man!" He laughed and wanted me to laugh too--but all I could offer was a tense smile. As I walked away I regretted not giving him more. I wanted to turn back and reciprocate with a backslapping belly laugh--you really had me there, buddy! But the moment was lost. Transitioning from fear to laughter that abruptly isn't realistic. Especially with a neck-tattooed stranger at dusk. So if you're out there my man and you read my blog, just know that I got the joke. I didn't laugh then... but I am laughing now!