The bus went right past me at 10 past 11.  I was late, but maybe I could still catch my fellow bartender, J, and my lawyer, and confidante, advisor in guitar tech, A, but even as I waved and ran out into the street, the bus driver kept on going, and made the turn onto Q, having a green light.  So I went back to the apartment, after asking the young couple with the UHaul rented truck up there on the gravel if they needed any help, took my coat off, wondering what to eat, and then I ended up figuring out to take the next one, bearing down on me now, in ten minutes, after the last disaster, just before midnight.  I'd done my taxes, was feeling very poor again, damn, credit card debt, the water to be turned off in the building the next day, and for morale's sake, for something to do, I was intent on getting to the Safeway for a grocery run.  I'd be going by the restaurant, not that the rest of them wanted me, given the way I worked hard but had too many friendly people coming by to take care of, but figured it would be dark at that point anyway, though not if I was working.

So I walked up the hill in the cold, got in through the doors, went through my list, got to the checkout line about 12:40, and I asked the guy at the checkout, the older gentleman, who is indeed a perfect well-spoken gentleman of old school really classy well-educated through public education, beautiful diction, grace manners, would done well at Harvard, I asked him if he'd done his taxes yet, mentioning how I'd bowed to Turbo Tax, just out of exhaustion and laziness, even though I didn't want to go there given their business practices of hiding how to file for free...  And the man, as he scans my items, "you know, I just started today."

I've put the heavy stuff first, and brought my own bags.  Cans of black-eyed peas.  Large sized carton of the house's Organic Chicken Stock.  Olive oil.  A bag of little carrots, celery, an onion, Merguez sausages, chicken thighs, ground beef.  Dish soap without Sodium Laureth Sulfate.  "The country has been handed over to the rich," he says, noticing the greatly diminished amount of any federal refund.  I noticed the same.  "I have fallen into the abyss," the gentleman says, and his literary nature, and his great generosity holds in my mind.

"I did my taxes, but each time I went through Turbo Tax I got a different amount.  My computer broke, and I don't trust doing it over the phone.  I'll got to the library tomorrow...  My girlfriend got interested.  Exceedingly interested.  She said, don't do anything 'til I come over."  In the meantime there's a nice kid who's come up behind me in line, how pure faced they are, no idea where he's from, and he knows exactly what we old men are talking about.  "I have fallen into the abyss," the gentleman says, and his literary nature, and his great generosity holds in my mind.

It's usually Mr. Bruce, Sir Bruce, in check aisle late night 7, but this man, whose name I cannot tell you, darker, older, larger, about the same height as Bruce and I, is different from anyone else, in the sense that we all are.  He's more the color of Louis Armstrong.  He looks solid, like he played football.  A coach.  A responsible leader.  He moves easily, and well, sharp.  He's the front of the house, here, the ambassador.  Once, I think the last time I was coming through, the man was easing along a difficult to deal with homeless woman type, almost apologetic, where he did not need to be.

By the time I leave the Safeway, I am thirsty again.  I could use a glass of wine.  I could go up the street, for a glass of wine at Breadsoda, then get a burger, or I could just save my miserable quarters and take the bus home with my two bags of groceries on a cold night.  I chose to walk down the hill, Manny and Olga's on the way, for, yes, a gyro, then catch the D6, finally, after shouting wearily at the night, west there back to the old Palisades.

So, I feel some relief once I get back.  It could have been worse.  I'm still bored, tired, lonesome, lost, all those things, but at least I'm ready for the water shut off.  And groceries.  The gyro is what the doctor ordered.  I wolf it down, bread wrap, white onion slices, tzatziki and all, delicious.