A call to the crew: restless, wandering of the mind, "Skip won't pay the boys". Empty pockets. Her love is like a crazy cup of cool orange juice. Red notebook. Plans, plans, plans The Rose City, hot and fresh to breath. Black, white, yellow - they walk the neighborhood - ocean to concrete. Another chapter done, a new chapter to ride. A fresh, new aperture-clicking, clicking: one, two, three until the sun kisses the moment - the vanishing moment. An inspiring man: "live with passion my good man!" To suck my mind out of the familiar, to look as though others would see. What do you see? Tattoos, black hair, jack boots, blue collar, food carts, broken signs, colored skirts; kids, kids, kids. Where has the greatest generation gone? Where are the fathers? Who will teach us? Another block down, another block to another bar. Where are the workers? We can't all be social. Gum on the street. Hula-hoops spin. The river flows. Does Portland even have jobs? Another block, another chapter. "I'm lucky because I work hard". Thoughts rage from other men, the city. What lays here? Opportunity, they say - opportunity to make a better life. "Oh, but the country is kissed by God". Pull back. Visions of a bush pilot - slow down and bring her in softly. The city will open up, all in due time. Heaven is there. Smoke from the grill. The homeless need beers. Another block and another chapter to walk through......for now, this night, Will West plays.
