Total SPAM: Life Sentences

At Peets, out in front, on a wooden bench, under the awning, on Mountain Boulevard, in Montclair, on the stinking hill in the forest, a guy, some loser, sits, holding out food while a pigeon,a rat with wings, perches on his hand, eating, flapping its wings to balance, to fly off if agitated if the scene gets too sketchy, too threatening, too crazy, dangerous, deadly.    The wooden bench in front of the store by the glass swinging door entrance reminds me, yours truly, paulette, reminds me of electric chairs I've seen made of wood in photos, in magazines, in books, on TV, chairs designed not to conduct electricity out to the rest of the torture chamber to the murdering murderers.   And in my tiny mammalian brain, my teensy-weensy mammalian brain, in my relaxed, unhurried state, sitting at a table, warm, inside of doors, sipping tea, I associate a lovely wooden bench with a murder of retribution, a compensatory murder, a state termination of human life, an execution.   How dreary, I think, in shadow as the sun hits the floor and my left arm, the arm closest to the window, the arm holding my only head up off of the granite coffee table, circular and static in its cold weightiness, a weightiness we could count on in a pinch if we needed an effective paperweight or fishing sinker.   I go pee out the tea I've been drinking, my English Breakfast tea the Barista, counter guy, coffee jerk gave me for free because I had to wait thirty impossibly painful seconds while he ordered more coffee over the phone to stock his empty shelves, shelves with no coffee on them, and inside the unisex toilet at the back of the store, under two air ducts, I see some locked cabinets dimly lit, a toilet and a sink with a mirror to check my thin, short hair.  I pee, letting go of my bladder muscle voluntarily, and out flows my tea, discolored of course, showing some change after digestive processing.  "Ahh" I sigh or say or utter or sing or something.  It's kind of a sigh of relief that we can all relate to, a release of pressure, strain and stress, a chance to pee out and on all the daily bullshit life hands us.   After peeing, I like to wash my hands with soap and water in a sink with hot water.  The hot water warms my cold hands, and it feels good to put my hands in hot water, so good that i start to cry, knowing that I'm the luckiest person in the world, the world filled with starvation, crime, stupidity, friendliness and organized people mobilized to solve important problems such as late mail and overgrown mosquito populations.