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051606
On my way home tonight, I gave the homeless transvestite that calls everybody 'honey' a dollar. She called me honey. Then the owner of Karen's Body Beautiful (Karen) waved at me through the window of her store. I crossed the street, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the B54 bus, and waved at the Dragon Garden girl. After a few more blocks, I went into Castro's and got the biggest, cheapest, tastiest burrito ever. There were no babies or strollers to be seen. Pratt kids were smoking on their stoops. The neigbors were grilling in their backyard. Walt Whitman's ghost hovered over us in electric green leaves that were rustled, faintly, by the dewy night air.
I love it here.
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