observations
I’m in Stumptown on Belmont, sitting at the front counter. It’s been one of those warm in the sun, cold in shadows sunny days that seem to make up winter in Portland.
Two girls have come up 34th on foot from the north, on the west side of the street. They’re young, somewhere between 15 and 25 … it’s hard for me to tell the difference these days.
One is standard girl, dressed for the suburbs, bowlish hair cut with a tiny bit of red in there. The other is punk rock, black leather jacket, silver studs, and manic panic green hair. They look like lovers.
Standard girl crosses the street so she’s right in front of Stumptown, while punk rock leans against the wall of the Belmont Inn, trying hard to look like she’s not trying anything. Standard seems to be waiting for someone to pick her up, eyes westward towards incoming traffic. They are still very aware of each other.
Punk rock crosses the street to be with her maybe lover. A station wagon rolls up and standard jumps in, the car barely stopping before taking off down the street.
Punk rock leans up against the wall on this side of the street, waiting for something. She sees it and crosses Belmont again, while a young boy, most assuredly under 18, walks towards her. They reach each other and stop, greet, and then punk rock reserves once again to cross Belmont one last time with her friend, and they walk south down 34th, out of sight.
Originally Posted January 27, 2007