On a trolley car - hobart building, then orpheum theater. The outlines out of the corner of my eye look familiar. I hear a mulato man talking on the telephone. He's telling his girlfriend he doesn't think he can continue living with her because he's not used to kids, and he doesn't think he can take the responsibility. He sounds charming while he's saying all this like he really thought about it and he really cares, but at the same time what he's saying is that he doesn't care enough to give up his life, as it is.
Owl service 2am. A woman at the bus stop gyrates energetically, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail. A middle-aged white man in a black hat & trench coat is next to her, his face is down like he's disavowing he knows anything about what's happening on that street corner. A taxi pulls up. I see her face. Her body looked young, but her visage is haggard, marred by red spots & scars. The hooker and her john get in the taxi & take off. The #14 arrives. A group of 3 interconnected hispanics get on the bus at the same time as me. I wait for them to speak Spanish to each other, but once on the bus they ignore each other. Seated in front of me, a black woman with high cheekbones can't stop admiring her own refelection in the window. She cocks her head different ways, tips her stocking cap, smiles and waves at herself the whole way down Mission.
Riding muni - disjointed events in a time series.