Breezy. Little more than I thought it would be. Well, out now, door’s in hand. How fast could I get this up in case, if there was, sometimes there’s a reason to get it up quickly, how quickly could I? Can’t check now, don’t lock it. If need be. Shouldn’t though. Had companions who drove, friends maybe, cost of a friend, risk of a friend, lessee if x is, oh never mind, I’m here now and I’ll be here again shortly. Then I can think about this. Then. Have to focus. There’s the hotel. No missing it, blue and red, neon and illuminated plastic and glass. Couldn’t hold me, the sign. It’s on the other side, shouldn’t have to worry about it. But you never know. Lisbon, beware of dog, slippery when wet, yield to pedestrians in crosswalk. Lewis ‘was that plan B’. Me ‘no, that was plan oh shit’. I had a snappier comeback, theatrics, but it’s better to live than to be witty. cab right in front of me. Never know. Better look both ways. Always. When it’s dark and wet like this people get crazy for home. Never mind the poor schlobs who like crossing the street. On the news that story about the drunk cabbie and the family reunion. Such a waste of life, senseless. No cars moving, five parked in front of the hotel, one of them an inconspicuous van. No cars moving, some people though. This is near the theatre district I guess, shows getting out. Might be good for after. Never stand out in a crowd. Important word for him. Never this, never that. Important lessons, all the same. Word to live by. Never did stand out. Short but not too short. Made for this. Don’t buy that purpose crap, no fate, no force, no God, whether I feel good or I feel bad is up to me, up to my own actions. I have a good head for hats, good face for eyeglasses. Mother wanted me to be a librarian, don’t know where she picked up that idea, this is much more what I do, fits like a glove. Gloves. Pocket, yes, yes, still have them. Never forget. If the time is that then after it’ll be the other thing unless I keep dallying like this. Taking stock is important, mustn’t think otherwise. Who’s here, right here only, in front of the hotel - what’re they doing, will they stay. Let me just see without looking, beats looking without seeing any day of the week.
Obvious first:
PoliceManSunglassesAtNight. Patrol. Patrolling. Lookingout. On the look out. Most likely this is his beat. This is what he’s paid to do. What we pay him to do. What is society, what is public service. They see so many pictures every day, no way they can even remember a third of them. Better to not try and be inconspicuous. Never whistle. Don’t stand out, conform, look-alike. Society. He’ll hang around. They always do. Always in the way. Solve a problem in advance? Never do three actions. Cross that cop, pass that bridge when the time comes.
ThreeToothObeseWoman. Cup out. Eyes down. Lots of bags. Wild guess. One of the unnoticed. Passing a discarded bundle of clothes. Taking three steps. Realizing that the bundle was wearing shoes. Teeming masses. Wonder if she’s tired, I know she’s poor. If she isn’t, no, well, if she was then now she’s seen me and that’s done. Only way to tell will be whether or not she’s still there when I get back down. She has no place to go. Winter in the city, freeze to death on the sidewalk, get cleaned up, off, by the snow crews. When it rains we all get wet. Some of us dry off. No night for sitting on the curb. No night at all. Have to keep my eyes on that one. No night at all. Occam’s razor. Shit, how do I apply that here? What’s easiest. Okay, she’s just some beggar. Trash of society, poorer than trash.
Thank you razor. Must keep my eyes open.
BrownHairedMotherSquareglassesWet. Regular. Civilian. Bystander. Daughter is:
BrownHairedDaughterSkippingInPuddles. Definitely theatre crowd those two. Just passing by. No influence on the equation. Cause and effect. Like karma?, I asked. Not quite, he said. More like, what we do in life echoes through eternity. I’ve heard that before, sarcasm was a tool of mine in those days - know thyself - and he responded along the lines of, just because I’m quoting that doesn’t make me any less right. Seemed annoyed to be found out, Mr. Never let anyone know. Hello little girl, smile to strangers much? Oh, don’t talk to that guy, don’t grant him a dimpled smile, he’s the vile oppressor and suppressor of all things good. Whose street? Our street! Imperialism? End it now! Police state? End it now! She’s jumping around a little freely, SquareglassesWet ought to be looking out for her. Pun. Ouch. She can’t see through wet glasses. Read the topline. Contacts! Expensive. Day job. Money to take her kid to a show. Most definitely her kid. No shadow of a doubt. BrownHaired the both of them. Sometimes it’ll skip a generation or the father will shine strongest, not here, like mother like daughter. Apple falling close. Hitting someone in the head, they invent gravity. Things stay put. Not quite how that works. Bodies attracting bodies. Well, we’ve all been there. Good times.
GaggleOfJapaneseGentlemen. Right there, for example. Well, they’re just passing through. Passing through, sometimes happy sometimes blue. Look happy though. Must have been fun. No time for me to do stuff like that. Not here anyway. Moving very briskly for such a spirited crowd. Destination? Hotel? Not this one. Nearest one is? Follow the water, too cheap, too full, just right. Quite a way to go. Must have been an energizing performance. Wonder what they saw? Madame Butterfly, maybe. Takes so long for those people to die. Take knife, insert, ta-daah! But no, it’s part of the art. Once saw that other play as an opera - didn’t suit it - his girlfriend was singing about flowers and stuff along the lines of having misplaced ones minds, wanted to drown herself. I had balcony seats. Afford the nice things. Never let anyone know. So she got down on the platform, sang about drowning and then. Nothing. Trapdoor broken. I could see it from up there, stairs are a plus, wouldn’t budge. She did real well. Never let it show, just got up and died, Stage Right. Singing. Not a usual sound.
JoggerSelfHaterReflectiveStrips. Well, the weather outside is frightful. Look at him. So self-righteous. Not only am I running, I’m running in the night and the rain. Top that you lazy pedestrians. What was it Soren said about deriving mirth from the sudden demise of busy people. Well, he said it was fun for one. Good old church-guard. The worse the weather the more there are of these people. Come the Armageddon there’ll be millions in tight pants and sweatbands. Running laps around the horsemen. That would be a sight. Exercise is good. I know. I do. Staying in shape, Lewis used to say that he was in shape, ending it with a ‘round is a shape, right?’. Lucky me, metabolism. Sugar is fuel. Wrappers back in the car. Evidence. Never. Back does ache a little on occasion. When it’s damp. Breeze seeing to that now. Little coolish around the edges. Nothing I can’t take. Sweat free. Feeling good actually. Good now, worse after running. Convenient parking if, hmmm, maybe a little too, no, stop, this game is not to be played on these premises anymore. Probably had to do with my low self-esteem, principal wanted me to be more assertive. If only he could see me now. Actually, better he can’t, of course. Used to play - call it play - that everyone was out to get me. That everyone knew one another, walky-talkyed, one big plot. Out to. I don’t know, it never got that far, didn’t need to. Just needed me scared and in the center of attention. Dad was always away, mom wasn’t enough. Never want to have kids. Risky. Could never tell them. They could never forgive. Would never. I should know. Where was I? Where am I? Okay, this far. Stopped jogger. Ought to. Yeah. Control myself. Sugar is fuel, overdrive. Hands. Steady as rocks. Always were. Librarian. What did she know. Maybe she’d figured out the alternative. A vision, induced by Lord knows what. I would have made a strange librarian. No one would be late again, never be overdue. That’s for sure.
CellPhoneArgumentPinstripeMidAgeMan. Boy he has jazzhands. Assume? Don’t ask, don’t tell. Oh, be nice. You are such a thing. Wonder who’s on the other end. Not a superior, way he’s carrying on. Friend? Colleague more likely. He’ll stay put. Whatever he’s doing here. Come off it. Stop playing. This is a city after all. People will be every- and anywhere. No getting around it. Ideally it would be just me and whoever. Although that would be a little boring. No real challenge. No one to pay either. City, this. Gotta make a move to a town that’s right for me. Possibly Africa. Rich enough. Talk about moving. Funkytown. Oh no, don’t want that stuck up there all evening. I have a few select words to deliver. Not unlike Mr. Theatrical over there. Sometimes pent up stuff comes out like that. Flowing. Maybe, listen, yeah, a machine. No one could sit quietly through that. All of that. No human. Make our cars, add and divide and answer our phones. Awful good of them. Maybe they’ll take over my job. It’ll lose its human touch. Inhuman, whatever. Unlikely. Job security. Security. He’s just some guy. But his wandering pattern is a little erratic. Could be right in front of the door upon departure. TopHat ought to take care of that. It’s his job. Servant.
TopHatDoorMan. Servant. At that age he’ll be a good one too. LV knows how to accommodate himself it seems. Or herself. What do I know. Uniforms, like SunglassesAtNight, just so you’re sure. No shadow of a doubt. Stone-faced. Insert quarter to play. Kind of guy who’d wander into rush-hour traffic just to hail a cab from the right company. Could probably point one in the direction of more, shall we say, diverse entertainment. That’s his human touch, that’s what he adds that a card-board cut-out with a prosthetic arm would not be able to do. I’d like some smut please. Certainly, sir. Right over yonder, sir. Wouldn’t say yonder. They probably have all sorts of secret ways to communicate. If he was asked directly by a guest he would probably vehemently deny everything while discreetly pointing in the correct general direction. No commission most likely if the guests don’t end up the right places. No man can serve two masters. A servant divided. Winks maybe. Or handkerchiefs. Colored. Spanking. Sodomy. Black satin, leather and lace. All the pleasures of the night. Not really people while they do it, but one has to, I mean, I do at least see the obvious logic, why pay for pinup pictures when you yourself can pin one. Up. So to speak. Never did understand the tease. Straightforward. Nudist beaches. Never could. Too excited. Only human after all. Humane? Flaunting everything they have, beckoning us closer, tattoos that go God knows where. But get close and they’ll. Yeah. Forget it. Guess they Never Let Anyone Know either. Better to just pay up, that way you’re sure of the rules. And as long as your cheques don’t bounce you’re never inadequate. Good thing I don’t have a lawyer, servant of the mind. Not a lawyer, mind fails me, shrink. A shrink would see so much, know thyself. Try and spin this into that. Not tonight. Single bed. Single cell.
GreenFlashBikeMessenger. What could be that important? News maybe. Contracts. Brave devils. Life and limb. All of the rights but none of the metal casing. Proud tradition. Aztecs, no, must have been the Incas, runners. From the shore to the top of the mountains. Fresh fish. Never got around to inventing the wheel, got super lungs instead. Or the oysters from Rome to the wall, Hadrian’s that is. Weren’t fresh. But all the same. Surefire sign that an empire is falling. No mail today. Actually, no mail, not ever. And don’t even dream about seeing troops out here again. The empire you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please hold for the revolting peasants, Goths or vandals. Greek running naked from the battle of Marathon. At. On? Of? Just so he could deliver the message. The battle is won - think it was won - and then drop dead. Convenient how some people seem able to control their own demise. Like the woman who lost her scarf. Strangled. Managed to give a speech afterwards though. Tricks they have to use. Tricks, I should know. Oughta know. Real quiet, the dead. Position of freedom. Just oneself, the metal horse and the road. One objective, delivery, ones own freedom as to how one reaches that objective. Actually, I have that job. Think the risk is about the same. Cars all over. At this hour.
Traffic. And where are the busses? Rich neighborhood. Let some words slip at the mayors soiree about how much noise a bus makes and about how much they would hate to withdraw their support. Although the other guy seems nice. Yale man and all that. And the mayor understands. And public transportation goes around, wide. Sickens me. Physically. Nepotism. Cronyism. Political leverage through wealth. They’re rich, must they also be powerful. Taxi one Taxi two Taxi three. Flow to it. Not congested yet. Strange how all the shows seem to get out at the same time. Can’t be true. But if it was, backed up for miles. Suppose it actually is light for a Friday. This is a Friday? Not important any of this. Today is the day and that’s all there is to that.
That about does it. Time to cross. Estimated at some fifteen seconds. We’ll see about that. Don’t rush. Take your time without letting it slip. Don’t want to walk out in front of some semi. A parable for our time. Urban. Seconds aren’t important. Yes they are. They are on the very frontline of the battle against time. The foot soldiers of the chronographer. We all just want to get home. Safely. Know I do. Anyway. Let up, come on. Not the drenching kind. I’ll get home dry. Doesn’t mean that I like standing here. My hair dries so slowly. SkippingInPuddles, still looking at me. She can’t see much. Traffic. Blurry lights across the street, between us. Can’t see a thing. Time’s here. Now. Won’t have to wave to anyone, thank anyone for passage. Charon doesn’t make change. Advancing on me, the soldiers. It’ll be more than fifteen. Most likely already is. Break on through. See you on the other. Other. Side. No parking over here. Fewer trees. Parked by the park. Good thinking. You pick up a few things now and again. “Mommy, mommy, I helped the policeman”, SquareGlasses answers something or other. Wonder what that was about. Revolve? Push? Pull? Ahh, pull. Of course. Know thyself. Where am I? Obvious question. Big room this.
