The Corner Seven Eleven

   "Oh where oh where has the winter gone, oh where oh where can she be?"
"Well look up North young man, and you shall see, the rains now clip Canada before driving Eastward to the Atlantic Coast!" 
  Now the song A Foggy Day in San Diego might never be a hit song, but the deadly fog will strike the unsuspected in San Diego with colds and shortness in breath. 
  My bronchial asthma was bad. Too much weekend for me and now I needed to pay the price. The lack of air had clogged my mind and I left a book on the 992 to the airport the night before. 
  I had taken up a seat at Terminal One. A couple from Dallas waited impatiently for their driver to arrive. The grandmother and her daughter spoke about the trip in from Dallas. 
  "Why I am still cold. Yesterday was fifty but today no  more than twenty. I can't remove the icicles from my body!"
  "Don't worry Mom, Jake will arrive soon. He is finishing work at Kearney Mesa."
   Normally I try to keep my mouth shut. I told them about the buses and shuttles that could have deposited them in a closer spot to be picked up. 
   "Why don't you take the shuttle to a San Diego Hotel. It would make it easier on Jake."
   The daughter gave me a stare. An hour later, I saw their driver arrive in a compact Ford.

   The next morning, I left the downtown 'Y' at seven o'clock. Some jerk in the cell next to mine wished me a good day with an "Old Man" at the end. Thank God some blacks still show some respect for me. 
   I opened the back door and almost ran into Mr. Cartwright the manager. "Why gud monin Mr. ah ah ah." After almost three years he still forgets my name. He probably has Mr A like one of my girl friends. (Alzheimer's)
   Cartwright was the one who brought me into the Hall of Horrors or the second floor. I must have looked disabled then. Most of the residents have received vouchers to remove them from the street by HUD.  
   After crossing the dumpster and pissers corner, I saw wheelchair Dan. His two feet stuck out their toes looking for spare change. He had lost twenty pounds from a year ago. I wondered what Obama care was doing for Dan. 
   Again, the same black and whites  cling to the Seven Eleven like a gold mine. Anytime they say the word 'sir' mean they wish spare change. 
   I got a small orange juice with two bananas and a dozen eggs for six and change and returned to my cell. At smokers' corner,  Jake lit one up as well as our manager - probably a Marlboro or Camel. 
   After making hard boiled eggs from the kitchen, I placed my food inside my nap sack and out the door I went The Tijuana Blue Trolley had just arrived at the American Plaza.    A hoard of domestics and laborers exited for the Santa Fe Station for another train. 
   The corner Seven/Eleven hands out drugs to everyone, including those with a EBT cards. By drugs I mean candy, soft drinks, hot dogs, pizzas, coffee, quick picks and lotto, and all the packages of sugar and salt you can steal. 
   It seems to me there is a Seven/ Eleven on every corner. Why even across from the new San Diego library one sprung up with a prominent display in the front. It was an add for those electric cigarets. Not to be forgotten, two Starbucks are just down the steet. 
   Both stores feast on hot polluted days. People have a yen for a quick pick me up. Too bad they can't get it from life.