A Postcard from Los Angeles
August 18, 2015 - 119 words
On my only day off I walk down 3rd St to get a box of popsicles from Vons or Ralphs or whatever company’s logo snatches my vision first and I plow right into a true believer hollering about salvation and repentance through a megaphone. Right on the busiest intersection of Vermont and 3rd where the buses hover and belch like dying elephants. This guy is still decorated in his church gear, has been burning in the afternoon heat and has less effect than a smug bumper sticker at a red light. He’s casting uselessly from his book of spells, a wizard without a wand, a cog in the system, and the rest of us flow past him like water.