|
Tenderloin Heights Polk Street on a Wednesday afternoon people wait on street corners for some kind of luck a block to the south men sleep on sidewalks and in doorways a block to the north people sit at window tables in little restaurants drinking 50 dollar bottles of wine on a day when loneliness follows you close like some sad-eyed dog you stand on a corner and look around and all directions seem the same the busses going up and down Geary Boulevard are crammed with far too many people going to places they’d rather not go and the sadness in your bones will not be named or explained away. |