Squinting your eyes can help you see, but, careful, don't close them. Then all you see is nothing. Or, on a sunny day, a reddish pink glow through the faltering lids.
The city is full of spinsters, hipsters, gangsters, and more. The city is an organism all its own. The city is hurt - I know this. No one else seems to notice. I FEEL it.
I see the city writhing, crying in pain.
Fentanyl mornings in the Tenderloin. Meth-ed out evenings in the Mission. Drunks stumbling around North Beach. They are characters in the play, and I have so much love for them. I want to take them all home with me. I won't even enforce my puritan values.
I will provide clean needles and alcohol wipes.
The sun will break through the haze again. I have faith in this. My faith is misplaced, but it is all I have, and I will cling to it. It's a mid-week afternoon. People will die today. Today, people will be born. People will rot in jail and in cells of their own making. All this is natural. All this is fine. This is life, and life is not clean or easy. Especially not in the city.
Park your Tesla and take a walk. You have your freedom. Not everyone does. Take advantage of it. Revel in it. Smoke some crack or volunteer at a food bank. Get involved! The city will thank you someday. Or it won't. You won't be around to find out.
❤️❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteA Death In The Family
ReplyDeleteNot coming from a close knit family, the chain of phone calls bringing news of the death of another are always an awkward round of conversations.
I knew when I saw the caller ID that the call was to inform me of the death of my uncle; brother to my mother. With it came the part I was really dreading, the request that I be the one to inform my aging mother of his death.
We're all scattered across the country so there is no passing of information face to face, only that distant telephone call. The last time we were all together in one room was to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of my now deceased uncle and his wife.
I spend some time wondering what mom's reaction might be. Depressed with poor health herself, would this worsen her spiral? She's aware that her brother is at death's door so it won't be the shock it was when her son was killed in an accident at age 15. I suspect she's braced herself for this news.
By the time I dial the phone Mom's line is busy and I'm praying the "gossipy" relative in the family is not on the line to dish the news with her. It's busy for quite a while and when I do get through, it's to find mom's brother's wife has called her with the news. I don't grill Mom on why my Aunt called, just confirm that Mom's okay. She echoes my feeling of relief that her brother is pain-free and at peace.
I suspect the next round of death notifications will originate from me. The list of calls to make grows shorter each passing year.