And I’d Kill For A Woman

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• June 8, 2024

A panhandler enters the subway car. Looking basically as you’d expect. My nose is in a book and I pretend to ignore him, but I listen to his announcement.

“I love black people. I love white people. I love asians and Spanish people. I love muslims and christians and jews. Everyone has a place here. And I’d kill for a woman. I would KILL for a woman.”

Ummm… okay.
He then repeats this, slightly louder.

“I love black people. I love white people. I love asians and Spanish people. I love muslims and christians and jews. Everyone has a place here. And I’d kill for a woman. I would KILL for a woman.”

He really emphasizes how he would kill for a woman. I guess it’s been a minute since he’s gotten laid. Though this strategy seems like a bad one to woo a women. Listen up, dude, we don’t want you to murder for us— at least us decent women. Maybe try getting a job first? Yes, women like it when you have a job and clean flat somewhere. He’s got empathy for all types of people, that’s a good quality. We like that. But we’re not trying to go to bed a flea filled box.

“I would KILL for a woman.”

He gets off this car and unto the next. I assume he does he same speech there. I don’t even think he asked for money. Just pussy? A strange strategy, to be sure.

I read that panhandlers in NYC could make anywhere from $30,000 to $40,000 a year (tax free!). Which sadly, is not much less than I’ve survived off of for years living here. But I guess that’s what you get when it’s more important to you to do something you love than make a decent living. I wouldn’t kill for a woman, considering I am one, but these days I probably would kill for a decent writing job. So I guess I would kill for a woman… ME.

NYC is an unforgiving city to homeless and employed alike. The homeless in Hawaii seemed to have it pretty good, by comparison. They lived in beach front tents. Some of them even had bikes and surfboards. One of them told me I was a legend. He would probably kill for a woman also.

There’s one homeless man who frequents the N/W line in Astoria. He always asks if you don’t have money to spare, then spare a smile. That God is good. Rarely do I smile for anyone upon request. Especially in New York. But I smile for him more than I give him a dollar (who carries cash anymore?). He seems just as grateful for it, complimenting me. Then he’s onto the next car, doing to the same thing.

Day in and day out. The same routine. The same speech on every car. Longing to have a bed to go home to, and even better, a woman to hold. Something most men take for granted, always thinking a better woman is on the next car over.