The street lamps look like they are spraying a fine mist as the cars rush past one way up the street below. Tent city to the right and left, in front of me the apartments on the richer side of the street.
Pedestrians do their chess board dance on the crosswalks. A dog looks left and right – the owner doesn’t bother, just puts foot on black top and then the other while the clever canine nervously scouts for danger. Make no mistake there is danger on these streets.
Change The World From Here! New Century! Civic pride flags flutter failing in the night air as a voice sings about numbness and I fall into an intense jealousy. I am made bold by this higher perch above the city swell.
I look down on the City from a crow’s nest perch of safety. The lights turn red as a boy runs up to the drivers’ window of a non descript mushroom colored car that has come up from the brighter side of town.
The usual exchange – money out, a small red balloon in a shaking hand. This guy looks nervous. I want to tell him to flush the damn stuff. I consider telling him to now roll away, buddy, get the fuck outta here, but he is taking his time, putting his shit away and the corner boy is looking dangerously nervous. I can hear his thoughts: “Is this a cop?” The nice car pulls away just in time, before I am caught watching some bad scene of nerves and guns.
Off he goes to heaven or to hell, to join the Jim Jims in this town in their dance or else to go make a fuss in a bathroom stall shouting as he sticks himself, just loud enough for his friends to hear.
When did the ‘heads get to pathetic? When did they get so performance-weak? It’s hardly Lou shooting himself up in the neck and coughing up a Quaalude in the best party trick ever.
I realize I am temporarily in love with a voice on the stereo and chide myself in my old age I have no right to feel this rush of lust for this chick and her Collings guitar. It is her passion and her anger which turns me on. I check myself laughing. I am not dead yet. What a fool am I!
I am old
I am old
I’ll wear the sleeves of my jean jacket rolled, but never the collar up.
The lights turn green and a convertible with the roof down rockets up the hill. I feel like a vampire latched onto a vein sucking the life dry from the sidewalks and the speeding engines. I have never felt so alone.