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About Houston

So, I’m wonderin—what’s it like for her? Is she happy? Trapped? Surprised me how chill some of em are. Talked to this one gal once—total accident, swear it—near a fire call. She’s leanin on a wall, smokin, says, “Hey, hero, need a date?” I laugh, like, nah, I’m good, lady. But she’s cool, tells me she’s been at it 10 years. TEN YEARS! Can ya believe that? “Fish are friends, not food,” I mutter—thinkin she’s dodgin sharks out here daily. She smirks, like she gets it. Weird moment, man.

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I walk by Birch Park almost every day. It’s not huge, but it’s quaint. The trees sway. The river, Delta Flow, runs along the edge. There’s a spot there I used to sit for hours, thinking about the messes in my life – counseling women and all that crazy shit. Seriously, never thought I’d find solace on a park bench. But then, there’s the irony: in the chaos, there’s beauty.

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