Street Life Part Two

A Story by Judas Hammer

On his way to the Shelter in the little white van through vicious gang territory....

Street Life: Part Two

Long Beach Transit Journals

Written on 103 Bus from Lakewood to Bixby Knolls: Via Cell Phone

He entered the van cautiously. It was just he and the chubby, friendly Latino driver. The woman collected his paperwork and returned inside the building. The driver waited a few more minutes and pulled away.

It was off to Wilmington.

The driver tried to engage him in conversation sensing the tension sitting behind him. The driver played soul music on the stereo system. The voices of Dianna and the girls filled the interior with hope. He’d been there a few times in the past but due to its dangerous reputation he stayed away. They had a notorious street, gang called WILMAS. Their tattoo showed up somewhere on the gang member’s head; usually in back. They weren’t to be played with and left alone if possible. They caused much havoc in the harbor city, putting angel wings on the backs of local black men whether friend or foe

Wilmington was their home and he was going deep into the heart of darkness.

The van traveled down Pacific Coast highway, cutting through Long Beach to the mean streets if Wilmington. Like most southern California City, it kept its pleasant architecture from the past, but had the modern violence and poverty undertow. One couldn’t be fooled. The building looked straight out of the fifties but the hate and treachery were futuristic.

‘Proceed with caution’, said his conscience as the van pulled up to the shelter.

Written on 103 Bus from Lakewood to Bixby Knolls: Written Via Cell Phone

He exited and went inside the white worn down building with the adjoining chapel next door. His fatigue battled with his frustration and won. He went up to the front and spoke with an older, obese white man in the front room, on the other side of the protective glass.

"Can I help you?"

"I was sent down here from the mission in Long Beach."

"What's your name?"

He gave it to him. The large man check the list and guiding verbally to the next room.

"Make a right into the next room and have seat. There's some food on the table."

He walked into the empty room with the metal chairs in a squared circle. It was dark with only the sunshine from the Friday afternoon sun steaming through the barred windows. Oh how far he had came from the confines on suburban Jersey. His yearbook would have never read this blurb: most likely to be in a shelter in LA.

Written on 61 Bus from Bixby Knolls to Downtown: Via Cell Phone

He investigated the table found a cupcake and croissant and found rest on two metal chairs. The only noise was the afternoon news and dogs barking mixed in with Spanish spewed from mother’s lips to their children’s ears. It was enough to give him the comfort and safety to fall asleep. The elusive sleep. He took it for granted while in the world of the civilized. Now in the feral world he now called home it was rare as free money. Slumber hit and he didn’t fight it.

At least he has a roof. At least he had a ceiling. At least he had two chairs. Two glorious metal chairs.

Sleep-

Edited: Broadway bar in Long Beach, California

© 2015 Judas Hammer

Author's Note

Comments please. This is part two of Street Life. Go read that first and come back to this one por favor....

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Coyote Poetry

I enjoy your stories. Your good description make each plan and action come alive. I like the description of bus ride and thoughts. II hope to read more. We must of been thinking the same things tonight. I'm catching up on read requests. My vacation. I hope you are doing well and I hope have a successful new year my friend.
Coyote