Downtown was not restive tonight. Sometimes it is infused with the feeling that someone is about to really snap and give everything they've got to some shouted curse or they'll try to break someone's arm to rob them, or they're said no to for the last fucking time. Or sometimes they, unprompted, sing to you. After the people that work there leave and the people who circulate through to drink start creeping in. It's like it's a canyon that contains people, regardless.
I was at a bus stop. The bridge was out to my left, the one I'd go over to go toward my home. This guy got up from sitting, leaning up against a building. He had been muttering to himself, like he was arguing in court. On a courtroom drama, quietly. He stood up and walked towards me and said I know who you are. I know your games and how you're trying to play them. You dogged us the whole time and picked at us and picked at us and picked us apart. You took her ideas and fucked with them and gave them back to her. And we were solid together and we were going to make everything that we wanted, but you just wouldn't let us. And I want you to know that I see that. She won't even speak to me. She's like a ghost and you can see her because you have blood on your hands. I could see her when she was my Deborah, but she's your Deborah now.
