Everywhere in Particular

Today I walked down the street, a hobble in my stride. A gnawing in my physical side. A man was working on an old car. The same one he's been working on for twenty-five years. I talked to him. Then an animal control officer and I spoke at length. She had crawled under a house to save a dog. Then there was that fucking Wine-O again. He's always there on the vacant days. I wonder if he knew how attentively the sun was following my skin as he sang his song. I wonder if that lady was joking about flying a helicopter to Mar Vista. I saw some airplanes and shot them down with my two fingers. Same with the Wine-O. I shot him his best wishes. Later, I thought about two people meeting on one of those airplanes. It was nothing original, as I speculated about what the young woman driving by me was doing to busy her mind in her black car. Before that, I had walked past my old friend's house and wondered if she and her sister still lived there and the sun kept following me.