canned food drive at the hospital

suddenly , he's not that sick anymore. if luis hooks up with his supplier he's lost his middle man status. he came in yesterday with enough general pain in his abdomen to warrant admission but the phone call came after the heart and liver tests, cancer screens, blood draws. normal. or mostly. probably a damn ulcer they said, see a colonoscopist they said. dad even came by, contrite, looming like an overweight scarecrow, a crow pecking on  mortality. whatever you need, he says. whatever you need.  he needs something to bring back to his baby girl, his reason for even caring wether the pain in his gut will kill him or not. most days he'd rather it would. stop drinking they said. so he will. he quit crack, he can quit beer. shit. wrestlin a gator was harder than that. he asks jarome, the orderly, for a box, shows him a photo of his daughter, his sweetie. jarome smiles, leaves the room.comes back with a box from the snack machine half filled with snacks. these are from the staff, jarome winks. the man has promised jarome some business after release. this man is always on the make, always working- what are a few packs of crackers between friends. he leaves his room, stopped by a physical therapist and phlebotomist. they donate their canned soda to his daughter. everyone here knows her, they've seen her innocent gerber  face, staring out from behind the glass this man holds in his hands like a sign on the side of streeet. he nods in a few of the rooms on his way out the door, more orderlies high five him, donate donuts and apples. by the time he gets to luis' car, he has enough snacks for his bambina's to put in her lunch box all month. and luis, he best be a sittin cat like he wanna swoop on my source, he chuckles to himself as he gets in the car.this dawg gotta few tricks left.