I’m on the 6 headed inbound – a wheelchaired panhandler straps, the bus bumps and he jumps, my hand on his armrest so he doesn’t tip forward. click click HE’S IN NOW without a thank you, nod, gesture, any form of acknowledgement would suffice. – the australian comedic performer on my left, his north face jacket reeks of tequila, stares puzzled when i mention flight of the conchords – people people people we are stuffed like sardines, asian moses leading the cattle car towards the wharf – no one sees anything – CAN I BUM A CIGARRETE? – cars paralyzed on embarcadero its claustraphobic suicide – with 40,000 people out on the street who operates a vehicle? – fireworks, red white and blue artillery shells blanketing and pounding the sky into independent submission – john adams and patrick henry are here, shouting GIVE me liberty or give me DEATH! ; get me on a bus, and way the fuck out of here – asian woman, 65, gloves, digging through trash, my cans her recycled treasure, balancing seventy pounds on her shoulders like a vietnamese mango seller – drunk 16 year olds on the bus, lost, YO WHAT’S UP DUDE DO YOU GOT AN EXTRA CIGARETTE? I’m 15 and a half, my brother here is 18. – haight and masonic, walk up up, when you hit the fog make a right.
why do we go so fucking crazy to see fireworks?