“I fucking told you!” screamed the big girl in the tight black dress waving with her cohort on the corner of 5th and G St.

A chubby woman with 3 dogs pushes into the Palomar Hotel. Someone shouts, “What is it? Who’s there? Who is it?”

A big crowd swarms the front of the House of Blues. Pushing thru, a young black guy glares at me as if into a mirror.

On my return, he’s on his back on the sidewalk, asleep. People look down and step around the fallen figure.

At 7 AM, someone else sleeps wrapped entirely in the doorway of a corner store. The street empty except for cops.

A few stragglers on their way and me, following my coffee alone till it goes cold. It gets me to the freeway.

The freeway saying, “I’ll call you later!” like a girl always on her cell might text, “5 north (arrow)—”

 

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