02.04.25

5:56 p.m.

i was waiting last night after work on the concourse level of embarcadero four. wondering around, smoking cigarettes. waiting for dug and drew to show. together we were heading for the coliseum and the yankees game.

i was waiting. and the dave eggers legal assistant, she was there too. dressed in a black skirt and baby blue coat. she was sitting with her legs out in front of her crossed, head down and staring at her ankles. smiling. she was waiting for someone, i think.

the yankees won, eight to five. the last two innings were pretty uneventful. the seats around us gradually thinned-out while the game wound down. eventually there were more green seat-backs than people. but, we stayed until the last pitch.

we stayed. me with my head in my hand, watching what is normally on my television unfold thirty five feet infront of me.

me watching derek jeter's mannerisms. him hopping around between each pitch. him holding off on his bat when he realizes (almost too late) that the pitch that he was about to swing at is not a pitch that he wants to be swinging at.

and on the way home, all of us were asleep. sometimes with our eyes open, sometimes with our eyes closed. we were waiting on a deserted balboa park bart platform for our connection to colma. and dug and i, we were talking. it was twelve thirty and cold, and the woman who announces the train times, her voice was bouncing off the walls all acoustically.

and i said, "dug, i'm sad. i was hoping to get home alot sooner than this. i was hoping to see malinda for a little while. but i think it's too late now, i think she's probably asleep."

and dug says yeah. with his eyes still shut, he says yeah.

and i said, "that's kinda scary, huh? that i'd miss her after only one day."

and dug shrugs a i-don't-know/maybe/not-really.

"i mean," i say, "i'm getting soft, you know? i used to be hardcore."

"dude," and this is where dug opens his eyes, "you were never, ever, hardcore."

"sure i was. i used to have no love for them bitches."

"nooooo," he says, "there just weren't any bitches around."

and eventually we made it home. well after midnight, we made it home. and i was sitting outside, smoking a cigarette. me and the streetlights, enjoying the early morning.

and there was a goose standing on my neighbor's front steps, quacking. loudly. loudly quacking. at one in the morning, quacking.

and i have no idea how it got there. no idea. but there it was, staring back at me as i stared at it.

and i finished my cigarette. and i went to bed.