Sitting out in the world.

chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp. Rhythmic chirping sounds like a the squeaky wheel on a wheel barrow; the kind that always gets the grease. Why would there be wheel barrow around here?
Avocado tree rustling leave, thump, thump.
Indian summer sun burning my face.
No breeze. No cool autumn breeze in October.

Giant snake like air vent blows car paint fumes into my face. Smells like industry, factories, 30 minute lunches. The rooftops are cluttered with trash that must have fallen from the sky. Raining forty ounce beers, shoes, a tecate can (did I
throw that there?).


Black and red curtains make me think of a deck of cards or a dungeon. That must be the apartment where the cards live- they lost their house to foreclosure. Now the house of cards belongs to the bank. That must be it, or else what is a dungeon doing on the 4th floor?


Sprinklers go on, or maybe a hose, water rushing, why? There is nothing to hose but cement. Cement doesn't need water to grow. Not much growth around here.
And so many windows! Like faces starring at me- no one looking back.
Six shoes drying/living on a sill below.

The silver roof looks like water or snow. I miss the snow. The sun is still burning my face- go to sleep I think.

Sirens- 2 police care, one fire engine. I can tell.
Blackbirds fly out of the city in a flock, punching out from their time clocks on their way home to their families in the sunset.
I see graffiti on the snake and then start to notice it everywhere.

Gin and tonic left to cook in the sun. A fruit flies vacation getaway.

Little oasis on the fire escape, a city mouses' amazonian jungle. Succulents, large rock crystals, aloe, dried (rotted?) rosemary. Anything a city mouse might want.

Childrens' voices- the park, of course, across from the strip joint, "What's that mommy?"
The 38 buzzes by, inbound undoubtedly many minutes late and packed to the brim- a miserable vessel full of miserable souls.
Something strange resting on the top of a fire escape ladder looks like a windchime made of meat. It makes me nervous, brown and fleshy; animal? vegetable? mineral?

A shade opens and closes. It gives the appearance of the apartment blinking its eyes open. Another set of blinds is drawn- "Don't look in!" They say.
I can see the port of Oakland with the cranes high in the air- "Did you know George Lucas used these as inspiration to..."
blah blah blah, Yeah we all know and it's all we can think about when we drive across the bay bridge to visit our friends in Oakland who require backyards and "peace and quiet every now and again."

I hear a motorcycle- loud blatting down the street, like a lion roaring in its' jungle. Seagulls are fleeing for the ocean, flying over the building away from the two-wheeled lion.
Finally the sun is sinking lower, no longer burning my face. A group of people is gathering outside one of the guest houses across the street. She is yelling something and pushing someone. The police will be called for sure. I see it every time.
Another motorcyle- a great day for a cruise.
A breeze is picking up i am praying for some fog to cover up this heat. It's the pigeons' turns now- they are doing circles around a piece of graffiti that says "George". They must be fans. I smell laundry.