Friday, February 3, 2012

Why I call it home;

     I wouldn’t call my neighborhood rough by any means but, by Portland standards, it probably is. There’s the occasional shooting but it’s not like I walk around here fearful at all. And sometimes, if I have to leave my building really early in the morning, I could almost swear that the zombie apocalypse did actually happen sometime during the night. I mean, there are bums limping and spitting and scratching and moaning EVERYWHERE! But it wasn’t until last Sunday when I walked out my door at about 8 ‘o’ clock in the morning and saw some kid smoking something through an aluminum can that I really began to wonder if the cops really gave a shit about anything on this side of town save murder. He was just standing there so complacently on the sidewalk smoking that thing like it was nobody’s business! I walked right by him…within two feet of him…and he didn’t even try to conceal what he was doing by turning into a doorway! It was broad fucking daylight out for Christ’s sake!
     But God bless this town because, when you can get away with that, you can get away with just about anything.