Surf City Bus Stop

My goal yesterday was to crop my hair, that is after my four dollar big McDonald's breakfast Another hot and muggy day greeted me at the Main Street Bus Stop. The 29 bus had the usual on board: the homeless, walkers and wheelchairs , domestics, and the tattooed skateboarders.
  I could not remove the stumps from my memory. Yesterday at the Adams stop, a blanket that covered two stumps looked wither asleep or dead. The legless man had homesteaded the bus stop for days and one day would leave on the meat truck to Potters Field.
  Potters Field is the final destination of unclaimed morgue bodies. It is a several acres of land between La Habra and Whittier. Over time, The decayed bodies turn the dirt into clay. Kitchenware items are made out of these acres of dirt.
   On Warner, the bus dropped me off next to a Big Mac remodeled restaurant. Its AC had been upgraded and my blood cells craved fore more H2O. I ordered the big four dollar breakfast and coffee. I asked that my sugar and cream be added.
    In the center of the restaurant were the same group of old Vietnamese reminiscing, or so it seemed. The group resembled an old match box with each match a copy of the other All seemed over eighty but age was a number for them. The group bantered back and forth and only took a break to sip their coffee. Their clothes matched and all were well-groomed.
    I had been told they were the original boat people who fled their county after the war and were given citizenship in our county with a way of having HUD provide them with discounted senior apartments. When they finished their coffees, one remained behind to clean and polish the tables.
    My destination now was the Bella Terra, where I would take in a movie and allow my blood cells a chance to regain their senses with clean air. I kept looking for the 29 A bus when across the street I saw an angular man walking aimlessly. He must have seen a well dressed man across Beach and came towards me.
    "Good morning. Got spare change for a coffee."
     "No not today, Have a great day."
   He ambled toward Big Mack. Somehow I knew he would return. And he did with the same conversation. Man did I wish for the bus to turn up. To show his disdain for me, he turned his cap around and muttered "Fuck you."
    After a long wait, the 29 A bus arrived and non too soon. I felt like  a pouched egg ready to be eaten. At Whole Foods, I bought five dollars of cherries and removed part of my Schindler manuscript from my Costco back pack. My body began to feel energized. I ate those cherries with relish before I walked over to Starbucks for a drink of pure air.
    At about eleven o'clock, I walked towards the Century Theaters for their five dollar and change senior day. Inside I looked over the preview of each movie and decided on House. I finished off the sack of cherries and entered theater two for the one o'clock movie.
    The movie about a couple who turned to starting a gamgling casino on their block so as to afford sending their daughter to Bucknell University. At three forty, I took another bus to Gothard Street. The Pickle Barrel Barber Shop was across the way from the Farmer's Market.
     Inside, I removed a large pickle from the barrel. Cucumbers from the Farmers market were bought and fomented into pickles. After my haircut I meandered to the market and bought me a bag of dates at a fair price, two large tomatoes, onions, three oranges and two corns -- all for seven and change.
     It felt good to make a date with the barber. My Ex girl friend Gloria told me that the mark of a man was his head and shoes Ever since, I have made sure to cut my hair every month ot so.