Urban Cowboy.

 
There are some funny characters in Montreal, some strange and curious beasts...

but one archetype in particular I love is the little guys who hang out in the park; these little homeless junkie faggots,

hustling for tail. 

I was going to take some pictures...but you know what & who I'm talking about. 

& they all look the same. 

Their schtick is the same.


They start by saying things like, 'oh, you came back'...even though we both know we never met. 

Then they offer to smoke some dope with you. 

One guy had a hard on like a billy club, and he was stroking it.

It reminds me of Burroughs early stuff...remember Herbert Huncke?  These guys are like clean European versions of Herbert. 

And always with the lycra shorts!!


Always on the make. 

They don't care- they play their games of tag in daylight hours; like the squirrels that dash about the grass looking for nuts.

although I will say this...the cops are on their tails toot sweet. 

One guy got picked up almost as soon as he walked away from me.


There are times when I wander about the seedy parts of the city...the drifters and the street urchins...

the lost dogs & the skunk he-pussy...


the way they touch you for some change or a smoke...

it reminds me of Henry Miller. 

I guess it was inevitable...& it's all very romantic, until you feel the shiv in your ribs. 


But I'm sure that's after dark.



I wonder if this cowboy hat isn't sending out the wrong message...