Salvation Is A Pop Song

Its all in how you hold it

5th

February

Posted by Tom Senkus on Feb 05, 2009 in

(PREVIOUSLY POSTED ON MY PERSONAL BLOG @ www.myspace.com/elusivetspot Go there, send money to my paypal account: email address: elusivetspot@yahoo.com)

Unconvential behavior breeds resistance from the unaware. What could look like a drug deal may be in actuality, two socially-awkward individuals with spacially-challenged (they like to stand next to each other) roommates attempting to exchange a key. Seriously, don't listen to conventional wisdom; its stupid.

Which leads me to today (I said "tutu"). I was walking by the Lloyd Center's parking garage towards 12th Avenue to apply for jobs in an otherwise bleak market on a dismally-grey day. In the intersection was a panhandler, a female. As for me, I had been planning to cross the street to drop off resumes at non-existent employers whom their employees would delight in increasing their job security by alley-ooping my crumpled application in the rubbish bin.

A meeting of two souls with an audience: the driver's being solicited by the female panhandler, waiting to turn the red light into green by some sort of though alchemy.

Then, I noticed her! It was Brianna, the homeless girl I had once shared a few conversations and one desperate night in the industrial district of Portland (near the Waterfront, by Front Avenue. Ish...) Yeah, it was her, alright! She looked at me by cue, and we waved in recognition. (The protagonist, dressed in a dapper navy-blue peacoat ensemble waves/beckons to the girl, slovenly-dressed and holding a sign that read "Spare Some Change" and other platitudes for your monetary love.)

"You should come over here!" I yelled to Brianna. She came.

In that instant, I could feel the eyes of the onlookers--a girl abandoning monetary prospects on this grey day... for what? To meet with me, an old friend. To the cars, ummm....

"Hey, how much for a piece, you slut?" sort-of-said a passenger making a turn westbound towards Interstate 84. Brianna hugged me and we exchanged pieces of our lives--she's still on the street, back with her boyfriend (one of the Tweaker Twins), and--"Nice hickey!" I said--she corrected me: shooting heroin into her neck with a hand motion of pushing a plunger and a glottal-stop that sounds like "kik-kik".

The light turns green.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPP, says one car, pausing, and then resuming--BEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!

It looked bad and I stared at her breasts that were popping out of her dirty white shirt. "Its a tit nipply. Breast to get a coat on in THIS weather!" She laughed, we hugged, and everyone was a little bit more entertained. As for the jobs, I'm still working on the stripper thing.

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