Oceano Avenue

Just above the shore by the City College is a downhill slope called Oceano, where the students scuttle like insects through the fading light of the burning sun;

and the students carry beers

backpacks filled with more beers as they saunter house to house, pad to pad to drink those beers

in between

after

even during class

with half naked intelligent girls on the brink of their glorious stage of

Femininity

Philosophy

Fecundity.

And every week some poor student’s stuff is out on the street:

Futon with ripped-gooey mattress smothered with his or her school papers, a boring book or two, dirty running shoes, clothes not suitable for life and all of its demanding cliches.

And I always wish to see their reaction when they arrive so I slow down, contemplate having a seat (so I can hear their side of the story when they arrive), and watch their bedroom take a shower in the afternoon sprinklers, wash off the early morning dew

cat piss

puke

spilt beer

whiskey

rum

and whatever else whatever else.

What happened to their relationships? Why this quarrel with the roommates? Did they eat the last Pop Tart for the last time?Or not pay rent for the first, second, third time? Were they too loud on the nights they were supposed to be quiet?

Did they kiss a lady or guy who was already taken? Who was off limits because of some … Code?

(You know what I’m talking about)

But as much as I want to hear and see some real life drama

blood and tears

teeth and hair

shouting

screaming

name calling in foreign tongues

swings

misses

(or just a good clean fight with no weapons but lots of vulgarity, to the point of obvious discomfort for spectators of any

age

sex

genre of anything)

I always keep walking to my part-time job as an English Tutor at the City College,

down Oceano Avenue

where the students scuttle like horny little insects, through the fading light of the burning sun.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s