Down by the river

I saw her from a distance, walking right in the middle of the sidewalk and about halfway into the block. I was just about to enter the disabled sidewalk ramp and continue on my way to the park, but then I realized there would be no room for us both the way she was walking.

Actually, I am being polite. I did not like the look of her from the moment I saw her, and as she was walking in the middle with a crack head’s inconsideration, she was already looking at me when I looked at her. I have learned over the years that unless you are a movie star, if everyone is looking at you before you are looking at them, you should leave that place. She was as tan as a retired New Yorker a decade after the move to Florida, but this was the kind of tan that can only be attained by the sun shining intensely through a layer of human oil and fat excreted through the skin and polished with a layer of dirt. It was basically a bum tan.

As I paused at the ramp entering that sidewalk, I quickly decided to cross the street, but I made it look like I wanted to cross anyways. Now the woman was ten steps from me. I think she knew I didn’t want to walk past her. There was a car coming and I could not cross, that gave another moment for the gap to be bridged and then she was in talking distance. Oh! How fast a half a block can go!

She muttered quite sharply, “make sure to teach her about stranger danger” and “don’t let anyone touch her genitals”. She was referring to the baby 👶 I was strolling around. I sure wish that last car hadn’t been there, I could have had a pretty peaceful walk with my little girl.