It was a small store front

among a series of awkward side-by-side bays

retail space

all let by the same uninspired realty and management company

year  after   year    after     year     after      year

either a front or maintained as a legit tax write-off

no matter 

                 business was created to fuck other people

Please  the insult people take  you shouldnt forget  This isnt personal

Its business

                     Gawddamn he loved those businessmen most 

                                                                                                Teeing themselves up

smiling smug   and so  so very pretty

and certain 

on occasion  not frequently  he followed up their business conjecture with

stepping back  standing away 

                                                  momentarily                                                                          

squaring his shoulders to their balls

feet  shoulder width apart  knees slightly bent 

wagging his No. 1 wood
 

                                        where the drawl came from he hadnt the slightest idea

it just sounded so fucking appropriate

--   Nothing personal  Purely business

stepping forward  shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet  he rocked them

he supposed they could take that insult anyway they wanted when they returned from Lalaland

the bullshit they thought theyre entitled to

 

The store front was located at the edge of Old Town  which was desirable  in a one

hundred year old village erected at the crossroads of wagon routes running west to the ocean and east

and El Camino Real  north to south

a historic artery between twenty-one military and religious Spanish Missions

established by Catholic priests of the Franciscan Order to infect Native Indian tribes

every grade school child was taught to memorize and recite those Mission names 

                  

History

             Ah   to be the Victor to write History through their eyes alone

It is how Lies become Fact

     

Old Town  for as long as hed lived there  was constantly being touted for renovation 

in an attempt to reinvigorate the District

                                                                  Old Town was the first cancer cell formed

but it failed to metastasize

and then lost steam over the remaining 20^th Century  dialed down into a maudlin

shitcoloured bedroom community

When the store front opened it was inspiring

he attended the Grand Opening

                                                     he wished its starry-eyed entrepreneur/curator

good fortune  and better luck

he firmly supported the Arts

although he supposed Art  as Beauty   inevitably  was in the eye of the Beholder

                                        

the Art he found displayed on easels and hung from partitions behind its plateglass windows

were less than inviting 

 

over the past year its efforts simmered down into Sex Sells propositions

scantily clad women  underwater  valiantly attempting to impersonate mermaids

believed compleat

                              by their photographer

if compleat mean tail fins fish scales and tits 

                                                                          their tits reflecting off the surfaces belly

he had chosen not to walk near the store for some time

evidently not a fan of merfantasy

Yesterday it was gone

its guts evaporated

its black and green tiled floor strewn with a single paint-spattered aluminum foot ladder

and scraps and tatters of paper like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle never to be pieced together

waiting on the firm minimum-waged hand  and a push broom

 

                                                                                                       providing another ash heap for History

1414,  Saturday,  28  3. 15

1604,  Sunday,  29  3. 15