gentrification is the new cocaine

The secret that would have ended everything. Everything. Brought it all to the end. Was. Was the emptiness of this party. This lifestyle-this work hard play hard. Play hard work hard life style. Lifestyle. See some can be appeased by the big paycheck and the limitless lines of coke or the bottles of whiskey passed amongst friends or any of it or all of it. Because. Because. Because. As I looked around at this party, party it wasn’t a big blowout at night of some great celebration because I can get that but on a Sunday afternoon, at 2:30pm, in the afternoon at a barbeque, I am indeed at a loss. I mean call me crazy but a good bbq for me is two hotdogs, some chips, and maybe a guy’s number. I didn’t realize that it would entail the not so secret bumps down the hall. The whisper in the ear, the ear so very not a secret, but then the smile and wrinkle of the eyes and the familiar walk down the hallway. They always think it’s a secret but it’s not. Never is. Back before you know it and the rubbing of the teeth, the twitches.

The secret that would have ended everything is that it is not a secret at all. We are in this glass house of late twenty something’s thirty something’s, I shouldn’t throw rocks I know I shouldn’t. The secret that would have ended everything is that this is as empty as you can get. Can get. It all means nothing but it somehow has became their everything. I almost played a game of stand on one foot and pick up a paper bag with your mouth. But then I thought of the dentistry. The tooth I just got fixed and I passed. A guy named B, my formers _____ name, tried to tell me I was special and touch my ass. I passed on that too. I glanced at the couch to see the gloss glaze of too many beers wrapped in a bow of some type of drugs overpriced like their time and I know I could bang each one and I pass on that too.

The secret that would have ended everything is that meaning, meaning, meaning meant everything. Everything and this meant nothing. Nothing at all. Because let’s talk about how I am helping the neighborhood (deep in the Mission) the host announces at 150 lbs wet and in his khaki shorts- how his gentrification ways are good for his brown neighbors because they are rich now because of me. He then takes a bump up his nose. Alive again. So dead to me. Dead to me. I bite my tongue until, until I say do you believe in Adam Smith too. Half the circle gives me crickets. Adam Smith is confused by someone else they met, they laid, they bought something off of. Invisible to them. Then one lawyer guy tall and goofy and somewhat ogre like who had cilantro in his tooth until I told him. Said I believe in the invisible hand. Of course you do. I say you are a lawyer you have to. A woman asked if we had a tampon- we didn’t, she said this always happens when I roll. If something made me bleed from my vagina other than my womanhood- I might stop. Just saying.

The secret that would have ended everything. Ended everything. A guy told me in his plaid. Plaid- that is was unique for a hipster it was from barney’s. The secret that would have ended everything. Everything was the secret. The secret. The secret that they all were searching for. Searching for sobriety. Sober to see it all. It all. That a search for the freedom in this type of freedom would be. Would be a bunch of people pretending. Pretending. The secret that would have ended everything. Everything. I was throwing a rock. A rock in their opaque houses. I didn’t care. Care because my house was glass. Glass translucent. You can see me in it. I couldn’t see them. Them at all.