The Tenderloin District (San Francisco Part 3)

In the Tenderloin District


I see bright light sunshine, worn down buildings, old men smiling, drug transactions, people and their little dogs, old woman dressed in all red leather with a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a purple scarf

I hear French accents, accents of all kinds, children, change jingling, dogs barking, voices muttering, voices yelling, horns beeping, outdoor music playing, pigeons cooing

I smell life, I smell restaurant foods mingling, I smell joints burning, I smell bodies unbathed for who knows..

I taste their hunger

I feel my past path ghosts, I feel present, I feel my many "selves"- past, present, future, I feel ghosts from my past, ghosts who surely exist alive somewhere? I feel eyes

homeless folk and junkies and dealers and folks walking their little dogs and the sun on my skin and the cool polluted but still so fresh ocean air

and men calling me "princess" and wishing me well in California. "You a musician? Yeah we see lots of musicians standing in front of here. You sing? Yeah you look like a singer."

and I walked down the street in the morning trying to muster a genuine smile for these people instead of looking so serious and sleepy-eyed

and I tried to think of something to say to Joe at the coffee place while we sat outside- me smoking a cig and him smoking a roach he found on the ground. I tried to think of something to say.. to say.. instead I just sat with him and watched the tourists walk by because we weren't in the Tenderloin- I don't think many tourist folks go to the Tenderloin- not on purpose anyway.

And if I can't muster a smile I try to muster a nod- but not the kind of nod that implies anything- I don't want to do that. just a nod of respect. cause I haven't felt an ounce of disrespect from anyone in the Tenderloin. Everyone's doing their own thing.

And other times i'm aware my smile is in my eyes and that's all that's necessary- that's all that is.