The Poet had asked me to help him move some boxes from Noe and 15th Streets, the same boxes we moved to Noe and 15th Streets seven months ago, this Sunday. But first he wanted to go shopping in the Mission for a new dresser and asked me to come along so I could use my truck in hauling it to Tim's condo.
I picked The Poet up. I didn't say hi which prompted The Poet to ask me a million questions as to why I wasn't talking and to fish and see if something was wrong. Honestly I didn't feel like helping him-- being just too weary from the past weeks activities and needing a day by myself to try to gather what strength I could for the week that lay ahead. But loyalty trumps all selfish needs.
Finding a parking spot took an eternity. Too many people were in the Mission. I found a spot several blocks away from the community thrift store. Walking down Valencia, The Poet asked me what I knew of New College. To his credit he kept trying to engage me in conversation but I didn't feel much like talking.
In the thrift store he looked around but nothing too special stood out. We ended up going to McDonald's were I had a hamburger. It made me feel sick. Walking out, The Poet opened a door and I was following him through when a black lady pushed her way through before I was even out of the way. I called her a "bitch" and then I said how much I hated the "fucking Mission neighborhood."
The Poet went back to one of the thrift stores and purchased a dresser for $20. I went and got my truck. The Poet had forgotten to lock the passenger's side door but luckily my jacket and things were still sitting on the seat. Upon getting to the store I got out and while The Poet was letting down the tailgate I told him about not locking the door. I was going to just let it slide but then figured he obviously needed a reminder.
He apologized and I took it for what it was worth-- not a whole hell of a lot. I drove back over to Tim's place. We unloaded the dresser and The Poet seemed to get a bit snippy while we were carrying it. After a short elevator ride and two flights of stairs the dresser was placed in the loft portion of the condo. I was told to wait downstairs.
Leaning against the counter in the kitchen I listened to the traffic of 6th Street. The Poet came down the stairs and then proceeded to release me from helping him for the rest of the day saying, "I don't want to take up any more of your day. I'll get another friend with a pick-up to help me move the boxes from Noe Street." I turned and walked to the door. The Poet followed me. I opened it and walked down the stairs.
The Poet said "goodbye" but I decided to save my breath. After getting home I logged onto the internet and on my yahoo homepage I read my horoscope. I don't pay much attention to it but this time coincidence was on target. It reads: Today, dear Cancer, is a day to separate the wheat from the chaff. Or, in other words, to take a good long look at your relationships and decide who is a true friend and who is not. You are very loyal, which is certainly to your credit. But what is the point of being loyal to people who do not return the courtesy? You have given your so-called friends more than enough opportunities to demonstrate their affection. As difficult as it may be for you, it is time to let these relationships fall by the wayside. Look at it this way: this will free you up to spend more time with your true friends.
I've felt an exhaustive need to separate the wheat from the chaff. Funny thing is, The Poet too is a cancer. I hope he reads this and decides to separate me from him. I'm glad he'll be gone to the Netherlands for almost a month. I wish that were enough time to forget about him and somehow let my life move on.