Hot days on the way

He was standing under the bus shelter.

humpty dumpty belly, red warriors cap,

skinny legs sticking out of cargo shorts

feet shod in pale beige workboots.

A tall can of beer sitting on the ground

and some song I didn't recognize

playing on his phone.

He says, you know women,

they forgive but they never forget,

you know what I'm saying?

You look old enough to know.

I'm stayin' at my sister's, she's cool

but my wife, I was married for ten years

but we was together longer than that.

and when it's time to go, it's time to go

but I still needed my stuff, you know my clothes,

my car, somebody else was driving it,

that ain't cool. When I was young

I probably would have done something stupid.

I was born and raised in the Mission,

I was a old school stick-up guy, I did my time

at San Quentin and I'm through with that.

I got a job backing up trucks at Parc 55,

my brother's a supervisor there

and I get twenty bucks an hour.

So I got my money and my credit score

is 640. That's good, right? that's really good.

So I've been staying at my sister's

for a couple of weeks and I got my drink.

She threw me a birthday party, I just turned fifty.

How'd I get so old? You been

around the block, so you know what I'm sayin.

Sometimes you just got to talk to somebody

somebody you don't know, because if you

talk to people who know you they bring up

old stuff and I'm through with all that.

Well here's your bus, I'm not taking the bus.

Five of us get on the bus and I find a seat,

get out out my book and start to read.

At the next bus stop, a young guy gets on

and starts to walk towards the back.

The bus driver tells him he needs to pay.

He slides a couple dollars into the machine.

Asks for a transfer.

Bus driver says, it's two fifty,

I'm not giving you a transfer until you

pay up fifty cents.

The guy says he put in tres.

Driver says no you put in dos.

Somebody in the back of the bus calls out

He put in three. Driver says no he didn't

and I'm not talking to you.

Back of the bus guy says

He put in three, why don't you do your job.

Drivers says, one more comment

and I'm going to put this bus out of service.

I don't care if it's six thirty in the morning.

Everybody shuts up.

The fifty cents remains missing in action.

So does the transfer.

We sail onto the bridge.

The traffic is light and fast

on this early sun-spiked Friday morning.

At the last stoplight before we reach

the Transbay Terminal, a full dress

Harley Superglide, with hard shell

saddlebags, a windshield and a

big sound system is playing

an old James Brown song: The Big Payback.

It's loud enough to be heard for blocks.

And it sounds so good. I can't sit still.

Like that other old J.B. song says,

 "I got ants in my pants and I need to dance."

I can't help but think that R&B has never been

anywhere near as good as J.B.

Up on Market, the morning maintenance woman

is disinfecting and hosing down the plaza

between Peet's and Wells Fargo. Just like

every morning before seven.

A truck on Fremont is unloading kegs

at Harringtons, the doorway sleepers

are waking up, a guy sitting on a sleeping bag

with all his stuff piled around him on the sidewalk

is buttering the pancakes of his MacDonalds

breakfast special.

Every street has bodies sprawled

under blankets or tarps, and

women garbed in shorts

and stylish sports gear

with tunes plugged in their ears

jog past the soggy sandwich buns

tossed in the alley and and the bums

now bathed by the sun's low rays

that find their way up the canyons

of the streets.

The tv weatherman said today

the heat is on it's way.