Postal In A Good Way

July 21, 2016 at 10:40 am (Cosmic Encounters, Sweet sticky things)

After a seven-day stretch, I needed time away from work. The public was getting to me. I texted Dr T. “Would you mind some company? I have a pressing urge to smoke a joint on your balcony.”

He texted back, “Sure. Hell, we can go onto the roof!”

I’d been to the balcony, but not into Dr T’s apartment. Access to a rooftop in the Pearl?

I rolled two joints.

I told him I was traveling on ‘Rain-time,’ meaning I’d get there when I get there. But the punctual white-boy in me won’t keep people waiting, and I managed to be only an hour later than planned. Dr T assured me the only thing I was missing were South Park reruns. I enjoyed the summer sunset, and arrived as the sky started to darken.

"When the moon fills the sky..."

“When the moon fills the sky…”

Dr T lives in one of the newer buildings on the edge of the Pearl. Thanks to requirements for mixed housing, folks with fixed incomes can live in snazzy buildings too! The good doctor lucked into a prime spot. One of Portland’s finest liquor stores was a block away, and Dr T’s flask was full of Jameson. He took a pull every time Jem and I relit the joint. Soon we were all squinty-eyed and mellow.

With a sense of perfect timing, Jem disappeared like a good mob wife while Dr T and I discussed a few private things. Now and then one needs the trusted ear of someone with major life experience. I wasn’t necessarily looking for an answer, I just wanted to make sure my answers were sensible. Dr T, as always, gave me just the right mix of reassurance and advice.

Jem returned with refreshments. We watched young hotties sunbathe and take racy pictures on the rooftop across the way. I pointed out old buildings and gave impromptu history lessons. As the night wore on, we laughed and shared stories, watching the busy-bees at the main post office below.

Human Beehive

Human Beehive

We smoked one last joint on the balcony, making sure all our territories were marked. (“Mark! Mark!” said the dog with the harelip.) Huge heartfelt hugs ended the evening, and I made the closest thing to a run I do in the direction of the streetcar. A crack dealer blocking the door was pissing off the trolley operator, but it worked in my behalf. I snuck on and found a seat. Next stop Safeway, for milk and an onion. Country gravy; it’s what’s for dinner.

I still have one more day off. There is a lot of baseball on TV, and I may just hibernate for a change. I’m tired of people. Oh wait, what’s this? Rain wants me to come over?

I guess I could spend a little more time in the Pearl. There’s no view of the post office, but the visuals inside Rain’s room are something I could look at forever…


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