hot days and hot dogs

There was a street vendor on Nicolette who sold the best steamed dogs and sausages. A sausage onna bun. Nicolette was the strange little line of humanity between the empty office tower streets to the south and the dodgy streets of abject poverty to the north. A block up was the used CD store, a cramped little hole in the wall where you could get good stuff on Wednesdays and Thursdays, preying on the misfortune of others who couldn't make it to payday without pawning their tunes. Across the street from that was bookstore that wasn't much to look at but provided an excellent science fiction section. Walk past the nightclub to the north and there was a place that made the best roast beef sandwiches in the world.

"Oh, then one day,
I saw you walkin' down that little one way,
To where I catch my ride, most everyday.
There wasn't a damn thing I could do or say."

It's all gone now. The area north of Nicolette has been redeveloped and now there are hotels, high rent condos, and chain restaurants where there used to be shops without windows. Maybe the hot dog vendor still trolls the hot streets, while the buses pass by with belches of smoke from one end and humans from the other.

In unrelated news, I hate my life at the moment. I'm tired of fighting everything. I can't win. I can't even break even.