Saturday, February 10, 2018

When you corner a dog

"I could lie my way out of anything..."

I sat on the steps in front of the coffee shop, eating half of a cheese sandwich. I washed it down with a chocolate beverage. It's lunch time. The business men and women stream by me. They are in search of instant gratification in the form of a quick bite. As the sun reaches the highest point in the sky, I adjust my fishnets so no passerby get a free look up my skirt. I haven't shaved my legs since winter time, if you can call what we have here winter. I see a man with a blanket running, breaking the glass from the drink he stole. Maybe he was thirsty.

My life has been one lie after the other. There are the lies I tell myself. These are desires enveloped in fiction. There are the lies I tell you. These are facts that simply aren't true. Then, there are the lies in live in. The lies that exist in daily living. The lies of comparison. I don't want to live in a space where everyone is superior to me. More money, thinner, prettier, smarter, they are just MORE which makes me much less. Yet these are lies too.

If my heart was scarred from the life I lived, you certainly pried away at it. There was a moment when I achieved the feeling that anything was possible. Nodding on a street corner is a fantasy. While my ice cream melts in my lap, the clock is ticking until I have to get up to make money again. The lies you tell me make perfect sense to me. They are everything I ever wanted: you are safe. You are loved. Everything is going to be okay as long as we are together. Six hours or eight hours later, I realize these things aren't possible. I come to my senses then realize I'd rather bask in my delusions.

When you corner a dog, you might get bitten. When you corner a junkie, you might not get the truth. We are on the defense, supporting the thing that makes us whole, even if that love is a lie.

As I walk back to my office, I carefully dodged the broken crack pipe but I almost stepped in the human poo. (THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED. SF is an interesting place).



As a side note, I saw a man in a wheelchair light a crack pipe with a magnifying glass this week. 




2 comments:

  1. I used to know a guy named 'Rabbit.' He was in his 80s and in a wheelchair. He had started smoking rock and got kicked out of his state subsidized apartment. Don't know what happened to him.

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