my city filled with street sounds. nicely covered with the stench of mexican rice. stove top. chili grounds. and spotted with check cashing stores. like a checker board. black. red. no green to be seen. not either side. black marks Starbucks. and red, Target. they’re on every corner. every turn. over my shoulder. in third place, the am pm mini marts. a bp company. sunrise colors. clash with yellow and green. i shop at the liquor/deli on lawrence. support the local theatre. saving old architecture. bike riding past bus stops. dreaming. freedom. child-like lollypops. to reach the barber shop. free cut. in exchange for the paint scheme. and logo. i love trading. free beer. the keg. and the kettle. train depot. the best mexican breakfast burrito. they add potatoes. at the sante fe cafe.
it’s always a beautiful day.
the goodness in cruising around. getting to know the owners of my city. stores. restaurants. bars. cafes. ace hardware. and convenient stores. from the SOCO District to McClains Coffeehouse. the book ends. of my city. harbor boulevard. after hours. the lights of the drunkards. so pretty. ugly. mainly because that’s not me. trying to get a piece. i stare from the outside. inside my volkswagen. jetta. in peace. better understanding. what it means to be free. that motorcycle cop always sits in the drive of the boba shop. i got a seatbelt ticket. and wished him well but was thinking… different. i removed my flip flop to arrange an oragami-style toe knuckle pop. as i flip him off. little caesars cashier. the woman supporting 5 children walking the stroller. ignorance gets older. construction hardhat mentality. re-do the sod because they forgot the sprinklers. giving jeri some money. he’s homeless no wonder. but he still supports the liquor/deli on lawrence.