It has been a while since you last started window staring. Your little street was not nearly interesting as the alley under your window in the shelter. I know you were feeling safer, feeling calmer. It was quieter, it was calmer, it was definitely safer. Heck, I thought you were going to go full Joni Mitchell with your flowers round the room. Almost forgot what it was like scrabbling around in the street, didn’t you, girl? Well the last few months fixed that. Of course the sweeps in the heart of the TL (does the tenderloin even have a heart?) were going to push a lot of people out to the edges of the area. The cops don’t tolerate them going any further north than your street. I saw you clock the uptick, but you didn’t seem concerned. A few people sleeping out there is not a problem to you. But then the noise started. The constant 24 hour a day fighting and screaming. The constant diatribe of crack talk. The daily and nightly take over by the dealers. Then you would peek out from behind those curtains and take a deep breath. Constant threats of what they were going to do to each other. White homeless women using slurs against black people walking past her. Chasing elderly Asian ladies as they tried to go shopping. Screaming at you how you were a bitch and they were going to fuck you up, whenever you left the house. You would stare out watching the boy get off the block safely when he wanted to go for a run. Then you went out for runs with him because it was just too dangerous.
That sure was a lot of cops a few days ago…but at least the issue seems to have been cleared. Do you feel better, because I saw you crying in the corner. Can’t win, can you…If only people had a bit of compassion, offered psych help not just arrest, but you can’t change that, so no point crying about it. Just get through fleet week and we might just survive.
See you soon,