|
A Test It is exactly twelve noon on a Tuesday. I know this because the siren of the San Francisco Outdoor Warning System mixes in the air with the sunlight and ebbing fog. It is only a test, the voice explains over the siren, only a test. I am never sure if the voice is live or a recording. In any case, it is only a test. Those who deal in terror apparently have other plans for this day. And if bombs fell on the golden gate bridge or foreign troops poured into the financial district with evil eyes and dire plans I am not sure what is expected of the average citizen. Put duct tape on the doors and windows and collect the food in cans. The phone has rung three times. More recorded voices asking for the money I owe them. I sit in the bathtub and listen as I shave into a shard of a mirror long broken. The cat sits in the window as indifferent as I. The sun is shining on Post street. I get dressed and step out into it feeling good enough. The holidays are over and longer afternoons are on the horizon. There is enough money in the bank for rent and a cup of coffee. If I have learned anything it's that more often than not to ask for much else is plain ungrateful and more than a little foolish. |