I would watch out of the corner of my eye for Tom's truck to pull in to the parking spot, a smile just waiting to happen when he came round. He had a crew of low-life types who hung round him, doing him minor chores and making small deals with him, dependent on him for their little doings and food and drug money and the small things of life. It's a complete mystery to me why Tom liked the people he dealt with. He took care of them to some extent, and to an extent beyond what others did. He was, to many street people, a life-line. Now that line is broken; he is no longer coming round for coffee. Tom is dead. On Saturday Tom died of a heart-attack. I'm heart-broken. I liked the man very much.
Thomas Moore. The man wasn't a saint by any means, but he was a good friend. I'm still looking out for him from the corner of my eye, hoping he's going to pull in any minute now....
Damn. It hurts.
Time, time, time, see what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
But look around, leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter
Look around, leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground....
Paul Simon, "Hazy Shade of Winter."