The boy was no shit-talker, no Casanova, no regular boy

I met him alone, on the sidewalk, throwing stone at pigeons

I said, “What you doing here, Boy.”

“Why you care anyway? I am watching birds.”

“Boy,” I sat near him, “you’re no birdwatcher, and you’re a punk.”

“Shut up.  See what you have done. She is gone!”

The boy’s eyes were damp, his eyes fixed at his ex  going with the cool kids.

“That girl?” I said

“No stupid. Birds!”

“Your eyes say the girl. You look like you’ve seen an angel.”

“She is a bitch!” the boy said.

“You mean that bird that flew away.”

“No. her.” The boy said pointing at the girl, “they all leave me anyway.”

“The bird left you because you stoned him.”

“And she left me because I am a sucker.”

“Don’t say that boy. She is a six and you are a seven. “

“Don’t Bullshit me, tall guy. I am no fool.” The boy said angrily.

“I am dead serious boy. Tall guy is a fool, but he is no liar.”

“If I’m a seven and she’s a six, why she’s going with them?”

“Boy you got no ball. I mean guts.”

“And you got them?”

“That’s out of your league, boy.” I said. “That girl is a stupid bird. Forget her.”

“She’s no stupid bird. She is smart. She makes good choice. She left because I am a loser.

I got no swagger, no money, no cool sneaker and now no girl friend.”

I patted the boy. “Boy, you and I are alike. But I am no loser and you’re no uncool boy. I like you.”

The boy look at me like my brother does sometimes when  I advise him good.

“ Boy you’re a fool like me. Fools do not give up. I am tell you a story.”

“ how a story going to help to win her back.”

“ you will see.” I said. “Once upon a time there was an old fool living in Spain. He’s name, Don Quixote. He was an old fool, a knight when there was no knight. People told him he was mad and knight are all gone. But the old fool didn’t listen to their bullshit because he was no people man and had a dream. That’s boy.”

“ and what? How’s that going to help me.”

“ I don’t know boy. I read it from a book; A good story. You make  of it what you want.”

“What do you mean?” asked the boy.

“people thinks you’re no cool, you’re a loser, boy. “ I said. “But who are they to judge who‘s cool?”

“What do you mean?”

“Boy, you’re the coolest son-of-a bitch alive not because I say so because you should think so. You got something none of these cool kids does.  Trust yourself boy. Let the girl go. She is a bird amongst millions and all birds aren’t gray.”

I said no more word and left the boy as I found him.

I hope the boy found his way. He was a good boy. I liked him.