12 11 2013
There’s a couple of guys sitting on the sidewalk out front of the liquor store, probably wandered over from Haight Street just to mix things up a bit. One of them has a guitar and plunks out of tune, sings some words and nods as they tumble down from his mouth. The other guy has a cup and a cardboard sign:
“Why lie? I need beer.”
I wonder about them. About their lives and if everything in them is just a little out of focus like how after a few swings from a 40 everything starts to get a little out of focus.
When you can’t tell the difference any more what’s the point of scrutinizing?
But still, they’re here. They adjust. They narrow their track. Concentrate on the things they can see.
Like, man, so fuckin what you can’t remember what month your baby sister’s birthday is in or what flavor of sugarless gum grandma always kept at the bottom of her purse?
You remember the important shit. Like, the chord changes to “Touch of Grey” and which parts of the park are safe to sleep in.
These are the things that matter now.