Loading time. Rush hour traffic. The Elite: office managers and copy machine whores. If you can see their slip, you know they’re getting a bonus that month. They all reek and crowd, like cattle on a freight. They’ll be gone in a minute though. The American population won’t walk a block to their destination, they’d rather fuck with the riders who actually have a journey ahead of them. Wow, that guy’s in a sauna… yuck.
I just write and observe. A man manuevers his way through the crowd… right next to me… and he doesn’t sit. It’s amazing what people wil do to avoid contact with others. I don’t blame them. With SARS, bird flu, regular flu, AIDS, and tetnis, who would wnt to physically connect with another human being? Seems a little hypocritical though. Tonight this man who chooses to stand and avoid me so fastidiously will go to a popular bar and after more than a few drinks, pick up a “nice girl” and take her back to his place for ten minutes of mediocre sex and find out in the morning she was too drunk to tell him she has the clap. Stinger.
Jack… what a dunce. When he asked about my black eye, I lied saying I hit myself on the same banister that gouged into my back. Even with my continual “stupid me’s” and embarassing laughter, he still didn’t realize that the banister which caused the occasional swollen jaw or bruise, or cut, or burn mark, or the recent black eye was connected to my father’s fist. Jack lives in a dream world… he can’t believe what I tell him.
And now they leave like water through a levy— whoosh! Hurry, let the fat man out first, he’s the most important. Poundage= status, after all.
5 o’clock… I’m not expected home for another hour.
My stop. I don’t want to go home. I never do. There’s no home to really enjoy.
Mom… Shut up!
I’l walk home.
Winter is so often taken for granted. It’s beauty is insurmountable. Who would associate it with death?
I think I’ll take the long way home.
The street is riddled with needles, broken pipes and condom wrappers. A used condom is a rarity, but on occasion, you just might come by one. Aha… they must have been in a hurry. I hear the glass of broken bottles and syringes crackle beneath my shoes and imagine my bare feet. What kind of diseases might I get? Herpes, typhoid, AIDS, maybe? I haven’t seen mom in three months. I can’t. They have her doped up so bad, I don’t even recognize her anymore. Why did I say yes? Why— shut up.
House. I’m hungry. Dad can fuck himself and cook his own meal.
