San Diego Library Revisited

   After church, I waited two hours before taking the Trolley to Park Blvd and the wonderful new creation in San Diego. A cattle stampede began just when the library doors opened at one o'clock on Sunday.  
   The inversion layer kept the toxins inside. Most everyone carried a drink. A sea of homeless blacks and whites pushed to be the first one inside the cool San Diego Library. The stench almost made me fall over. Many had folded up their tents on Park Blvd and entered their other home, the San Diego Library.  
   Some were thin, rail thin. Some shoes carried  no laces, others had no sole. Long ago their head pleaded for a haircut.. I few black brothers carried a white gal on a leach-so to speak. Most black males have a white girl friends. Some have told me their Mom's screamed too much.  
   They flooded the 150 computers. All were taken within a few minutes. I scrambled to the eighth floor and got the last one in the nick of time. I punched in my pin number and it was mine. But my mind was nowhere to be found.
  It had not been just hot. But fiery hot. With bad air, even shade trees needed shade from the heat. There had been an inversion layer so the cooler temperatures did not throw me. I knew Sunday I would be locked into another day of limited air.
   Two days ago, some of the homeless had removed their shirts. The smell of stench permeated the libraries elevators, and other area. And it was only May. I had never herd so many sirens. I wondered where the dead meat would be buried.  But I had survived seven days inside the unventilated Y.M.C.A with Cock Roaches. The other day, I tried to avoid looking at a tall kid wearing only his blue underwear. It was an underwear day.
 
  Two days earlier on Friday,  I ordered a burrito for breakfast at Lolita's on Tenth Avenue, a block from the ball park. There is a bus stop across the street. A bushy hair man lay on the bus stop iron bench. One hand held a cigarette and the other a coffee. One leg kicked the other's sandal off. It scratched and scratched-to no avail.  It was hard to make out a face. The white bushy covering hid him from the world. Then he got up and spoke to an imaginary person. He came inside and asked for a drink.
  While this happened, a few gals were jogging, and one was taking two dogs for a walk. I wondered if it was too hot for a hot dog. But it was still early, too early to effect a burn. A Green truck stopped to tend to some flowers in front of me.
    Many of the library irregulars come every day. They used their forefinger to hit the keyboard. Some have taken no shower in ages. Some mutter to themselves. They have no hint of how bad they smell. It is dead sweat, and they are used to it.
   Today I am lucky. The other five computers harbor no smell. I can concentrate and am happy to be wearing a baseball cap. The glare from the sun makes the monitor hard to see. I need to negotiate a change in my monitor.
   Another tour group from some grammar school have come in. They shout and stare at us. I am used to this. The boys who build the library wish to show-case their trophy. But it is not a real library. It is a another amusement ride for San Diego.
   The California room does have an internet connected to research for our ancestors. I was told it was there for nobody to use. The supervisor was scared I would use it for my blog. Well, he is a block head for all its worth.
   But as my daughter has often told me. "Where there is bad their is also good." The library does have one toilet on every floor. Yet that is where the homeless shave, and wash. Who wishes to take a dunk inside the same washroom. I often return home after the library and need to take a shower. My clothes smell of cigarettes and vermin.

  Yet I enjoy their auditorium concerts and also the game of chess on Friday's at three. And, of course there is air conditioning and a great view of San Diego.