Photo by Bill Stokes
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, like the keeper, takes sleeping locations for granted—comfortable beds, recliners, couches, all with built in reassurance that waking up will occur in a secure, warm place where a nutritious and delicious breakfast is only a few steps away.
It was that kind of a normal morning Wednesday when the keeper drove through an empty private parking lot on Madison’s far west side and saw the sleeping man sprawled under a tarp and other covering next to a grocery cart and a light pole. An extension cord ran from the light pole to the man’s covers, indicating a heating device of some kind, and answering some of the keeper’s questions about surviving the night on the cold, hard surface of a parking lot.
It, of course, left bigger questions unanswered: How do you come to be so left out of such a rich culture–one that includes narcissistic billionaires and millions of affluent citizens, that you must sleep in a parking lot?
The keeper, ever the smart ass with few answers, suggests prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I hope I don’t get run over by a pickup or a Jeep!”
