THE BRIDGE GUY

Since I have been working at UT, I pass under an overpass on IH-35 on 26th street (I refuse to call it Dean Keeton...it's 26th street). theres this homeless guy that lives under the overpass and he has: a folding chair, a city trash container on wheels stuffed full of god-knows-what, a blue blanket and a 6ft. stick with a big gulp cup wrapped partially in foil perched on top.Usually on the way in to work, he is in his chair covered up by his blanket. During the day we drive by at various times on our way to and from the supply house, to break and lunch.
We always comment on his activity: "Look- homies on the move"! (usually only 10 or so feet away in either direction from his trash container) or, "He's resting his feet" (this guy has edema you can see from 50 feet away). Some days the only thing under the overpass is the cup laden stick (and the periodic foot tall piles of pigeon shit). On these days, he is usually rummaging around on the service road to the interstate around 32nd street.Apparently the bridge guy has a 6 block range.
I have developed a sort of attachment to the bridge guy, a curiosity about him. When he is not there, I am concerned...is he alright? Where are you bridge guy? I am relieved when I see him picking up bits of ? on the service road. When he is under that blanket in the morning, leaning hard to the right, I wonder if he died during the night. I am relieved to see him uncovered and awake when we head out to the job site.
Today we saw him pantsless, in his baggy whiteys...I was amazed at the fact that they were clean.
I wonder about the bridge guy...what's his story? I'd like to stop some morning and talk to him...maybe I will.I could bring him breakfast. I could bring my camera...

[Listening to: Black Sky - All - Pummel (3:24)]