In the Tenderloin
O'Farrell street swarms with hookers and jumpy crack addicts.
It is thick with Latino pushers and hustlers on the make for a
tanked up queen to roll.
A night walk through the Tenderloin is like a hit of
speed and I have always preferred the danger of
the street to the insidious betrayals of deluded white-
collar slaves who think that sixty thou a year job makes
Greed is such an easy tool.
A man will sell his son
to the 'all volunteer' Army if he thinks it will get
him in good with the master.
We make no empty promises to each other on the streets.
I will cut the first person that threatens me.
I will do it instantly and everyone knows this from
the look on my face.
A frightened savage is a kind of innocent.
The Junkies of the Tenderloin do not lie very well.
This may be why they are junkies in the Tenderloin and not
junkies for Price-Waterhouse.
When you score from a street whore you never have to pretend
that you think he is honest. He'll screw you and you'll pay and
no one fakes pride in the transaction.
As one nears Market and Jones, the street becomes thick with
people who want to know "What's up?"
What is your choice of the sordid pleasures left to you?
Folks say to me, 'Bob, why you out here when you talk so good?
You could be working downtown!'
Yeah...I could be working downtown.
But I hate hypocrites. I can't think of nothin'
I hate more than a bible thumping double talking
mush mouthed hypocrite.
They shred my soul.
The honest squalor of poverty is ultimately safer
than the sad delusions a middle class whose lives
are even more expendable than a junkie's. .