and she called sobbing and i said hush hush, and she said tell me a story, anything. tell me about a foreign land. somewhere other than Australia.
so i told her about the City by the Bay. i told her of San Francisco. i talked about this place and that one, and about the baths in the mission where all the ladies go and lots of lesbians. she said please anything but lesbians.
i apologized. they’ve been beating her ass.
so i told her about the coffee shop that got hit by the Muni bus and only one fellow lost his life. i told her how it rains there and cleans everything up.
and then i told her about my favorite day in the whole year Throw Out Your Shit Day where you could throw whatever you wanted out on your curb.
This excited the young Russian.
“You say you can throw out anything? Cardboard?”
“Wood? Plywood? Two-by-fours with nails on the ends?”
Especially wood with nails in them. But yes all sorts of woods.
Clothes? Rags? Rusty pots and pans?”
Anything, Anna, anything.
I told her how the streets were lined with people’s shit, how people would browse other people’s shit and how the bums pushed their carts and made messes of the neatly stacked piles. And Anna cooed.
She asked me if I ever picked through other people’s shit.
Of course, my dear.
She said, thank you for telling me of this day.
I said, any time, now go hit balls. And she blew her nose and thanked me again and hung up the phone.