A few lines from a poem I have never read. It was written by Spencer Short:

One need only stand in the aisle

marked Produce to understand how the wan light

obscuring the bruised fruit makes all

of our decisions more difficult.

I was out shopping recently and decided to buy a coat. I took it up to the counter, and the cashier proceeded to fold it. She seemed a little absent, and stared forward as she worked. I was about to look away uncomfortably, but then I noticed something. A long thread of saliva was stretching from her lower lip. Time slowed as it extended from her mouth to form a small, moist pool on my new coat. She put it in a bag, and handed it to me. I inhaled, and took the bag between two fingers. She told me the price, which I paid, and then she handed me the receipt. I said, Thank you! a little too brightly and left.

A group of old guys meets at the corner coffee shop every morning around 7 a.m. Today, they discussed pop culture:

Old Guy 1: Do you like the “Cybil”? The T.V. show? “Cybil”?

OG2:They’re not making it any more.

OG3: It’s in syndication.

OG1: No, it’s on the Oxygen.

OG2: Who’s on oxygen?

All: Heheheheheheheheheheh.

OG2: Ohhhh Lord.

• A woman in a white Hazmat suit sprays down the sidewalk in front of the Castro theater.
• The train smells like pepper.
• A church sign reads, “Join us, pray for America.” Two men are seated on the steps below the sign. Their heads are bowed, hands in their laps. It takes me a moment to realize they’re sleeping.
• A huge black garbage can overflows with blossoming branches.
• A group of old women are talking on the sidewalk. The shortest one holds her cigarette like a joint.

A SMALL, GOOD THING

“We realize some of you may now defect, and while we wish you well, we also spit on your backs.” The Morning News just relaunched. Take a moment.

4.1.02 PUBLIC RESTROOMS

The toilet paper dispenser says Executive on the side. This gives me pause. It has never occurred to me that this is a situation in which I should feel professional.