He got up in my face, close enough that I could smell him.   “How’re you getting home?”  But I couldn’t smell him, inches though his face was from mine.  A missing tooth said Leavenworth and Eddy, but all I smelled was wet asphalt and the thick ozone of the subway rising under Market Street.  You’re supposed to be able to smell in these situations whether something’s wrong or not, but between the long day and the hard rain I couldn’t suss anything, and it troubled me that I couldn’t place danger rightly.“Are you paying for the bus or what?”He wanted me to buy a transfer, but wasn’t saying it.  I didn’t want to buy his transfer, but wasn’t saying it.  This went on, escalated. When people say someone gets in your face, they should mean close enough to drive their gaze through you, or shiv you, near enough to feel how much they hate. “I’m not a cop, you paying for the bus you said so.  Just trying to get something to eat.”  An anger that was justified, and also three inches away from my face.  I’m stupid, so I called him out, about it being like shit out here, about how he’s not the only one to ever have it hard.  It’s stupid because I mean it, and how there’s no sense of justice and I got lucky in a lot of ways, but am yet unlucky in any number of other ways, only I don’t get to think about them so readily because I have two bucks for the bus. He stalks off toward Burger King to leave me smoldering, useless.  “Hey,” I hear a voice.  “Don’t let it get to you.”  He’s youngish and I think I recognize him from the Lower Haight.  I should know better, but he doesn’t say so, but he tells me to not worry about it.  I’m genuinely grateful.  But I’m still stupid, and by now I ought to know when to keep my mouth shut.     
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He got up in my face, close enough that I could smell him.  
“How’re you getting home?” 

But I couldn’t smell him, inches though his face was from mine.  A missing tooth said Leavenworth and Eddy, but all I smelled was wet asphalt and the thick ozone of the subway rising under Market Street.  You’re supposed to be able to smell in these situations whether something’s wrong or not, but between the long day and the hard rain I couldn’t suss anything, and it troubled me that I couldn’t place danger rightly.
“Are you paying for the bus or what?”
He wanted me to buy a transfer, but wasn’t saying it.  I didn’t want to buy his transfer, but wasn’t saying it.  This went on, escalated.

When people say someone gets in your face, they should mean close enough to drive their gaze through you, or shiv you, near enough to feel how much they hate.

“I’m not a cop, you paying for the bus you said so.  Just trying to get something to eat.”  An anger that was justified, and also three inches away from my face.  I’m stupid, so I called him out, about it being like shit out here, about how he’s not the only one to ever have it hard.  It’s stupid because I mean it, and how there’s no sense of justice and I got lucky in a lot of ways, but am yet unlucky in any number of other ways, only I don’t get to think about them so readily because I have two bucks for the bus.

He stalks off toward Burger King to leave me smoldering, useless. 

“Hey,” I hear a voice.  “Don’t let it get to you.” 

He’s youngish and I think I recognize him from the Lower Haight.  I should know better, but he doesn’t say so, but he tells me to not worry about it.  I’m genuinely grateful.  But I’m still stupid, and by now I ought to know when to keep my mouth shut.     

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