tales from the 614

so i was just assaulted for no reason
right out on livingston avenue.

six or seven young fellas are walking west
toward the traffic light. i’m walking
the other way along the same sidewalk
*away* from the light with my fresh haul
from the corner gas-station-&-convenience.

and apparently i was supposed to give ‘em
a wide berth. so for me thinking we could
share the sidewalk as i passed ‘em,
the closest one to me (as i approached ‘em)
threw a roundhouse right into my jaw
and knocked me flat & wet into the street.

“what the fuck, man?” sez i…
more surprised than anything else…
as the whole posse runs away
down the alley giggling.

my OJ bottle is broken… & my
18-pack of beer, too. somewhat
surprisingly, the stuff in my pack
(a RubyRed & two bottles of Toy
["toy vodka"... the 40 proof diluted
stuff]… to say nothing of two
[essentially invulnerable] plastic
bottles of salad dressing & two
[even more so] cans of soup)…
the stuff in my pack (as i say)
is unhurt. & so am i.

so i get up.

at this point, i’m not even aware
that i’ve left a beer in the street,
but i’m well aware i’ve left a plastic
bag full of broken *glass* in the street.
fuck it. that could’ve easily been
my broken *body*. jaws get thrown
like typewriter carriages & livingston
is practically a highway right in here.

so i shake it off & cross the street
& get on the bus & pay five dollars
for a two dollar ride & here i am back
home. if i had a home.