BE KIND, PASS BY
i live downtown, where san francisco is reminiscent of dirty paris falling down a hillside. some interplay of urban geography keeps all the trains (except those postcard-perfect cablecars) down in the flats of market street. & because i like to wander, i spend a fair amount of time pushing up & down these hills to those tracks.
somewhere between here & there or wherever i’m pointed, i often pass through blocks that might define the word sketchy (tenderloin & skid row districts). & it’s ok, because i feel more comfortable w/those empty-pocket prophets than the business class by my office anyway. still. many of these people are desperate. & desperation is a dangerous human state.
at first, my naivety was sort of funny. drug dealers would ask ‘what up?” & i’d think they were being nice. but i was only confusing them. i used to make this mistake all the time. i couldn’t wrap my head around someone seeing dollar signs in my veins & nothing else. selah.
so now when i pass pimps in doorways, wide-eyed muggers & dealers in the street… i look them in the eye, i say hi & i keep walking. it’s a code of conduct that no one seems to argue.
