WALK WITH ME
WALK WITH ME There is, nothing short of the force of God itself, that could keep me from writing about what I just witnessed from the high-rise patio of my rented penthouse in the heart of metropolitan downtown Seattle.
I was sitting on the balcony patio that faces 3rd Avenue, blocks away from the world famous Space Needle. We didn't just have a "view" of the Space Needle. It hung out our windows like some gargantuan, futuristic, and out of place relic from a land that worshipped The Jetsons. The patio overlooked the corner of 2nd Avenue and Bellevue. I had just lit up a .5 gram pre rolled joint of OG Kush flower covered with Tangerine THC Sauce and then rolled in Blue Dream kief. I didn't usually smoke flower. I preferred the concentrated form, myself. But I was in some sort of mood. The Northwest in all its beauty and rain soaked ways, it could grab you like that sometimes. Those times that put you in some sort of mood.
I looked down to the street, smoking away and trying to take in the scene, despite my intense fear of open spaces. About 35 feet away from the crosswalk itself, directly in front of me and under me, stood a man in a light beige raincoat and wearing a white, stained baseball cap on his head. Maybe to cover up a bald spot on his aging crown. His hair was very thin under that stained baseball cap. A black umbrella with a black handle stayed firmly clenched in his left hand. He used this umbrella as a crutch to somehow stabilize the left side of his body when he rocked and swayed back and forth from nervous anxiety and the cocktail of pills that his money hungry doctor had Jim on currently.
The man looked up, directly at me. We locked eyes. Longer than I have ever looked into a strangers eyes, if I'm being completely honest. I couldn't look away. There was a humanity and an understood sadness there. That deep down sadness that all human beings feel, because we are all human beings. You know the one. It lies buried beneath every memory. It was there before your first felt emotion. It is the happiness, too. That sadness is the happiness. And that happiness is the sadness. Similar to the Indian God, Lord Siva. The creator is the destroyer and the destroyer is the creator. The vortex of the the infinity sign. That point in the middle.
I felt for him. And in feeling for him, I felt for myself. And in feeling for myself, I felt for us. All of us. Every single one of us. He didn't look away either. He didn't look away as he stepped forward. We had our eyes locked as he stepped again. He even still had his eyes looking at me as the bus hit him. We lay gazing at each other as his head broke apart from the impact of the shattering bus window glass and the shattering of his left side cheekbone and better portion of his jaw and orbital eye socket.
On his stomach now and half destroyed, he lay there dead and motionless. I was the last thing he saw. It immediately reminded me of my father. I being the last thing he saw. But enough of my daddy issues for now. I have to go inside and take a nap.
Bright ambulance and police lights bother me. I have too many bad memories involving them Way too many memories, in fact. Involving them.