Whaddya mean, Jelly Bean?

I crack my knuckles before I slide away from my desk and venture outside.  It's a beautiful day and there is something about hearing nature's sweet serenade that invigorates my imagination.  When I get to the parkette I waive a polite hello to Consuela before continuing on my stroll.  I think she's relieved that I've chosen not to bug her today; but truth be told, there is little for me to nag her about as of late.  Her karma is quite happy with her acts of kindness, and I imagine, fairly soon she will be moving out on her own.

Near the end of the parkette, in the shade of a tree, sits the apple-faced man who collects shiny pennies.  His knapsack sits beside him as he takes in his surroundings.  Having given me a node of inspiration, I feel it's only right to engage in conversation.  I decide that I will express my condolences to him about the twins.  They were his friends. 

"How are you?" I say as I approach not wanting to startle him.  He smiles at me and so I continue, "I just wanted to say that -- I'm really sorry about your friends."

His eyebrows furrow together as perplexity takes over his face -- and so I clarify; "Your friends, the twins -- the two ladies who look alike.  They used to sit over there," I point to the tree closer to where Consuela keeps her Taco Stand.

He gives me a big smile and simply says, "Whaddya mean, Jelly Bean?"

I take a moment before awkwardly repeating what I just said.  This time when I'm done he laughs and says again, "Whaddya mean, Jelly Bean?"

When it dawns on me that I'm not getting through, I look to the ground.  A moment later I see a penny hiding in the grass -- it's not so shiny, but I point to it in case it might brighten his day.  When he ignores it, I fish around in my own pocket to find a shiny one and place it on the ground, heads up, in front of him.

"Heads up good luck," I say as I walk away.  He waives thank you and adds it to his collection in the mesh pocket on the side of his knapsack.  As I continue on my way I let the birds intermingle with the sound of traffic and wonder what it would be like if this person did have their faculties?

Although, truth be told -- given the gravity of his living conditions, I believe that the universe has bestowed upon him an act of sheer kindness.  Ignorance really is bliss.  And I'm sure that there are millions of fools in the world who wish they could delight in something simple like the shade of a tree in the heat of the afternoon -- or the child-like excitement that comes from finding a lucky penny when you least expect it.