Last night I walked toward my place behind a tall lurching sidewalk dweller, who turned the corner before me instead of going straight at the light (please god please god please god make him go the other way. Nope.) When I got to my door he was peeing in the plants near the stair exit of my place. Note to self: take the elevator. Always.
I understand the locals call it the Psycho Safeway. During the 10 minutes I was inside, a homeless woman accosted a manager, who was closing and locking one door for the night. She did the Linda Blair Exorcist barking voice on her way out the other door.
I walk under the tree-lined streets and all I know is I love you, Portland. You are the city of dreamy dreams, despite the people poop on the sidewalk. Although these lefties would make me feel like a right winger because they’re so far gone, they’re still happy to see me. Random smiling people greet me as if we’d recently met through mutual friends at some enjoyable event. It’s like I’ve been invisible, but it’s wearing off and Ta Da! I’m here and so welcome.
It reminds me of going from dreary uptight don’t-look-at-me London to Ah love ya, lass Edinburgh. I’ve found another tribe of my people.
And tonight it feels like rain and it’s green with trees and gray with clouds and life is coursing through everything and I need to go get some more Portland on me.