Working downtown you see everyone. Not everyone such as everyone you know, but everyone. Every type of person there is to see.
I work down by the hospital. One of many in the junk capital of the east. Lots of sights to see. You see, I work making espresso and sandwiches. I make a little money here and there. Don't need to much to live. It seems to be something I have in common with the cats at the hospital. It's not patients though, you see, it's the Docs and snobby medical students who act like their parents are cushioning the whole experience for them. I'm sure they are. Just a guess. No, this is about the people on the street. The exuberant security guards. The janitors who dig the jazz I play and tell me that when it's slow it's because there's no horn singing. Their sad but hopefully eyes show a long existence in probably a similar condition. Not where they want to be but content with it none the less. The faces down MLK blvd. Cold even in the hottest sun. Eyes with such a contrast between the red ring around them and the brilliant whites of their sclera. The streets and sidewalks are cracked like an armored division rolled through there not too long ago. Never to be repaired. The state ignores this part of the city despite it being one of the main roads. Priorities, I guess.
The street with the cities namesake is a surreal roller coaster of sounds and colors and emotions. A vast river of complex moments all transpiring on the same path but not with the same destination. Where I go is only the mouth of the river. Where the flow runs calmly due to the "No Cruising" sign I am sure. Where the beat is low but still audible. Newly freed patients walk down the block back towards the west side of town hollarin' at the top of their lungs about nothing at all. High on life. The cats from the veterns hospital don't seem as content though. Sittin' up there in that "smoking section" right above the street. Looking down at everyone with wonder and contempt. I saw a man slumped over in a wheel chair in the middle of the sidewalk. He had headphones on. I wonder what he was listening to? If he was even still alive that is. It might have taken a long time for someone to actually check on him. His story ends there. At a black hole in his reality. All light and truth have been sucked into this void. Must be hard to be so young and so beat. Tortured by sidewalks. Glares. Fear. Pity. Apathy. No connection though. Ant auto-pilot takes over.