There was nothing unusual about the morning for seven minutes. Then the news came.
A winter suicide.
In South Central Los Angeles it was still nothing unusual. The mentally ill with a history of homelessness, drug use and unconventional survival skill die all the time.
We were going to meet to work on goals and stuff. Her new life.
By the simplicity of her allowing me to journey with her, no doubt my life would be changed a little yet again.
Not on the surface, but on the inside. In the marrow of my recollections.
Her life and my emotions were like the sugar in the sorry cotton candy machine. Fluffy and sweet disintegrating under her tears. They speak and share; inform me, keep me employed and then I feed the stats into the county machine and do it all again five days a week.
This one was shocking in a painful way like when you’re kicked in the ribs, but you can’t scream or your face will be kicked in next.
Then anger and resentment set in against the factions of claimants of caring and the keepers of those who matter.
Why did she only matter to me? I, a nobody as designated by said keepers.
Let us not scrape it under the crusty superficial bloody red carpets of the city. I grew up here too. I recall a running record of events. I recall the angles and twists of stories.
Driving through streets filled with junky dreams and the parallels of pathology and human conscience. Crypto gods hoard discarded lives outdoors to make room for the lives whose pockets they can pick within their trap doors.
Later I figured I couldn’t be mad at any higher power we’ve sunk so low I wouldn’t know where to go.
It appears that in the city the affluent are the only ones building up taking over God’s once very holy real estate.
In the night alone in my place thinking about her life and our collective deaths. I refuse to believe the asses or the elephants, the foxes or the talking heads from studios named after pretentious consonants.
Instead, in dreams awake I face the moonless sky. Light a candle with her in mind and believe the truth of the life in her humanity.
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