Friday, June 9, 2017

9617. NOTHING TO DELIVER

NOTHING TO DELIVER
Did you really have to sneeze while I was
hiding here? I know I'm always bringing
people around, but that's just the way I
am. I even haunt flea markets and junkyards
where I may find them. Nothing's too good
for my baby  -  like that ancient song used
to go. Now? I just run to the flower district
and sleep. Jennie O. leaves me candy and
cakes, something to eat outdoors. It's all so
easy when you're an old man. Or so it seems;
like everyone wants to help and take care
of you. There's never a place where I can't
sit down. Pass the time. Snooze. Even the
construction guys  -  mostly jerks  -  they
come outside often, for a smoke or coffee
(it's a wonder how these buildings ever
get done), and they just start talking, or
offer me something. Then, of course, for
all of them it's right to the phone. Craziest
thing in the world. Glad I don't have that.
-
Mostly though, I like looking at the cars
and trucks, and the lady cops. Now there's
a lot of that. I'm not sure how they function,
but I guess it's okay. Fast? Strong? What
matter; got the gun. They. Do. There used
to be horses  -  forty, fifty years ago. Way
up high, it seemed, the mounted cops looked
so massive, and the horses just lazed. Really.
I never saw any action at all. Even that's
all gone now. People sell felafel, and talk
of foreign lands. Everybody seems to
have so much on their hands. I don't
understand.
-
My little coloring book has a few pages left,
but, hell, I can't even remember where I last
had my crayons, or even if I ever did. Have
them, I mean. Most places, water's still free,
but just try to get it. Mostly now, they want
money for every little thing  -  and not just
pennies, I mean real money. The dogs that
bark probably get paid for that. 
-
I'll think about stuff, like this, all night long  -
looking out over the pasty harbor and watching
each of those fleet-footed visitors with their
ice-creams and sodas, kids running rampant,
the daughters and sons of some other privilege.
Like some Mercury, messenger of the ancient
Gods, but one that just never shuts up. Nowhere
to go, and nothing to deliver.

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