This was my last night outside.
I slept in the dumpster room of the restaurant
I´ve worked for but never got paid,
remembering when one day a full bottle of redwine
shot down the garbage chute and
impacted with this big noise,
announcing some hours of rest.
7:43 am, 54 degrees
Starbucks on Lincoln,
a hot tea and a smoke.
In four hours I´ll take the bus to the airport.
I´m a little hung over.
Two halfpints of McCormik Whiskey in order to
fight against the cold.
Weed-man walks by:
"Hey Baby, I love you Baby."
A guy on a scateboard.
Security on a bike.
The sound of those machines that blow away the leaves.
Freezing homeless walking by with
diving dumpsters for a
cold slice of pizza.
A zip of hot tea.
A drag of a Marlboro medium.
I´ll miss this place