PAINTING/HONORÉ DAUMIER, METMUSEUM.ORG
CHICAGO, IL — I often think about this image when riding the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA). It’s not nightmarish, but a kind of comfortable place, having inspired contemplation and songs.
That being said, tonight was really horribly different.
I got on the bus at Kimball and Diversey. Everyone had their face covered. There was a bad rotten smell. “What the Hell is that? ” I asked. “It’s him!” a young woman coughed out from her covered face. I went as far back as I could. People were cussing and convulsing to the exits. There sat a hooded figure in a bright orange parka nearly motionless. “It’s gangrene,” one guy in the back said.
“Open sores all infected”
“Won’t go to the hospital.”
They knew him.
“That white guy?”
“Yeah—got one of those infections that don’t get better with antibiotics.”
“Need to amputate.”
“Flesh eating thing.”
“Hey-fuck that!”
I realized I was seeing a 30-year-old dying in front of me. People choking, continued to board.
I got off and urged the bus driver to clear the bus and call an emergency situation in.
I looked in at him. He was tranquil and impassive to the anger toward his being. A neat beard and mustache. A barely alive indictment. No more or less insane that the system that allows for its citizens to sink to this state.
We are our brother and sisters’ keeper after all. We intervene to save it all. All roads lead to revolution.
