on a clear day

I had lunch at this Asian place known by those in Glendale for their three dollar pastrami sandwiches. Is it bomb? It was one of those days where I could smirk at the world as I drove cocky cigarette in mouth, I could feel the sweetness of hearty laughter in me. In the parking lot as I walked a beat up Honda pulled up to me, a guy in half-Armenian half-English called me over. "Brother, can you help? I just need a little money, for gas." He was scratching all over looking around not at me. I thought about my black tar friend and the different paths I went with him. I wanted to say to him that every morning I have to remind myself to stay strong no matter what my mind says, but really I was thinking of what I would do on another day. I wanted to keep him with me in the moment but all I could say was, "No brother; I can see why." What does he care for my sentamentality? I wanted to say more things to him as he drove off.

In the sandwich shop came in an old friend turned common interest turned friend again. He was with his girlfriend. He looked good. I caught him outside and we laughed about ___, to whom I introduced him. Walking in hesitant into his accounting office slash recording studio. All the instruments people must have traded in; he was like the dealer from Requiem. It's alwasy nice to smile at people on these clear days. "No, I haven't touched the stuff," I told him.

I still regret not mentioning to the stranger the Monday and Thursday night meetings, with those who speak our language. Doubt that would help, but they are sincere. He looked older than me. I'm sure he knew.

It's always dangerous to be around anyone who can understand. The rest can just talk. You never get to the end of it till it's gone.