Ken Trimble #46 The Hope trilogy part one

Hope didn't want want religion, philosophy, a car, a house, wife with three kids and dog.  He didn't want a good job, position or respect. He didn't want work full stop. He didn't want honourable things, he wanted a woman. Anyone to lay down with, brunette, redhead, blonde, it didn't matter if she was a beauty or not, he just wanted to talk, to touch, to fuck in anyway he could. He would haunt those streets of hamburgers and cigarettes with its multi-use layered cakes of Italian, Greek, Australian, Slav, Maltese world of rambling good nights and hellos. He wanted nakedness. Wanted a woman. Love paid up without sentiment. Love without love. Love without suffering. He wanted love anonymous, he didn't want names, histories, songs, and poems. He wanted to walk through the darkness having women when and where he wanted. No attachment, he just wanted to feel alive. The streets walked crows and gropes as the night blasted out moaning from some cheap burger joint between the smack and coke. Down the road dust rose like an angel greeting him as the sun rose over the apartments. Above him glowed a clear blue light.