living on Burbank Blvd. 3
I've told you we've lived here on Burbank Blvd. for 20 years now. I'm about a hundred and ninety-three now, but was once only about fifty, and sometimes mistook myself for fifteen or so. so I useta walk down to the 7/11 for a sixpack of beer or a bottle of milk or a bag of potato chips, necessities, you know. now I never thought of these during the day or even the evening. no, it was often full dark and sometimes near midnight. most nights nothing happened, I strolled down to the 7/11 and bought whatever I needed, then strolled home, encountering no one. but some nights were more interesting. one night a boy and girl had pressed themselves against the next-door apartment building wall to better explore what they were just learning. maybe they thought the four-inch thick hedgelet there disguised them. in any case, as well as I could tell, they never even noticed me walk by either time. on another night, walking home, I came upon a blood-stained knife - the blood more or less covered the point and about two inches of the blade. I kicked it into the street where I'd never seen toddlers walk or pick up things. no, there were no bodies about, just the knife. but the best nights came later. on my way home one night, a bra dangled from about knee high on the hedgelet. on another night, farther away from the 7/11, a half-slip coiled between the sidewalk and the curb. on a different night still later, this time on the sidewalk, a lacy pair of panties waited. now in no story I've concocted does a young woman walking along a sidewalk late at night decide to take off one of these items and leave it for some man to find. not unless she's gonna stay to be found too. in fact, I haven't invented any story in which that happens, say, as she walks from the car she just parked toward the door of the building. no, there's some mystery here that I'm not prepared to solve. but I do appreciate living on Burbank Blvd.
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