A man lived in a cardboard box among the oleanders by a freeway overpass. His box had white Styrofoam pellets in it and was wrapped in black plastic. It was really quite snug. The man did not spend much time with other persons whose homes were non-traditional. He liked to be alone. He would watch the traffic on the freeway and wonder why so many people were in such a hurry.
One night he was sitting drinking sweet red wine by the light of the moon when he saw a person on the overpass. A small person. One foot in a rope loop hanging from the parapet. She was spraying white letters on the concrete over the fast lane. A `J', an `E', an `S'. Now the person was hanging helpless above the roaring traffic, clinging to the rope, unable to reach further, unable to climb back up to security.
The man in the oleanders came to the rescue. Reaching down perilously far he was able to grasp one small hand. With a short struggle she was safe. A crying heap on the narrow, glass spangled shoulder.
``I dropped my spray can,'' she sobbed.
``We'll get you another one,'' he said.
``I got one in my car.''
When they started walking he saw that she was crippled. Her right leg not right at all.
``I got to finish,'' she said.
``I'll help you.''
As the moon slipped behind the Motel 6 sign, the woman sprayed - a little shakily - a `U', then an `S'. The man tried to reach down and haul the woman up but she struggled and slapped at his hand.
``I ain't finished damn it!''
``There ain't no more room - what you want to write - JESUS SAVES? You should of wrote smaller.''
But the woman just wrote the letter `A'.
``I'm making him a girl,'' she said.