standing on a street corner today in portland with jason in the rain, i waited for the blinky man to appear opposite, beckoning me to cross. my time in powell’s had already been well-spent, but my time on the street corner was just beginning.
here i am, looking around, in the rain, trying to blow out of the corner of my mouth at my hat falling down upon my eyes, failing, but unwilling to remove my hands from the deep pockets of the coat, the only warmth to be found for poor fingers. i wondered what i was doing here. in portland. on the corner. in the rain.
more water around than bridges. though my own body could form a bridge between one step and the next, if only the blinky man would appear, between the water falling from the sky and the water waiting on the ground. how many bridges did i cross today? did i ever leave the corner?
i’m still standing on the street looking around at this city i don’t know listening to my phone beep text messages at me and smiling because at least i don’t have strep throat.
Do they not have the blinky man in that godforsaken state? Is it a flashing “WALK” instead? My God, next thing you know they won’t even let you pump your own darned gas!
oh my god. i hate it when they pump my gas. my dread of the whole experience is immense. talking to strangers AND letting them touch my car? yeah, that’s just not ok.
What are you doing in Portland? Can I come?
fly on up. i’m only here till friday though.
pretty writing, sister. but who wants to write all pretty all the time? stay in sf. you know travel will only expand your mind. who needs it.