Apr
17
2009
Shoe Soles to the West
Out in the downtown around sundown, power lines draped elegantly across the road, bit of twinkle left in the old yellow rugburn as she makes her way to the hellish confines of the west end, guy crossing the street in tattered clothes – runs against the light and a barreling Caprice nearly mows him down. Across the way a store is still open, past nine, how and why, nothing is open down here only the corner standers and the floozy floopjacks. Guys walking from opposite directions stop each other on the street – do I know you? Yeah, I think you do bro. Did we choke a spliff or something? Yeah, something like that. Say, you want to take a walk, I got something you might be interested in. Yeah sure, let’s take it outta here, though. Guy’s cellphone goes off and they’re gone around the corner, I catch a fleeting snippet of the conversation, yeah I’ll be there in a minute, bro.
The cafe in the square is closing its doors and the bums are setting up for the night. The orange hue of the bus route placards – comforting on nights like this – cut through and make their way to places where people live and its sad that not many live down here, but many still do; there’s still a bit of life around here. Trying to find it though…not so easy. You can find a bit over there and maybe some over here, but there’s no real pulse, no beating in the neck. You might get a faint pulse in some other places, but that beat may be tempered by raw blood or stupidity. I’d like a coffee but the cafe’s chairlegs are all skyward. What harm would it do to stay open for a few minutes longer? Glance at my watch…nearly ten. Time to beat it. Tap my pencil to my notebook…shoe soles to the west.
