Saturday, to work

The cop walked back to his cruiser, away from the two gentle gents who laid claim to that unremarkable piece of sidewalk adjacent to the parking lot.  This particular Valley of San Francisco, come to think of it, has rather too many parking lots, but constituency rules the landscape.     
The cop was on his phone, and his tone told that he wasn’t in for busting anyone.  Maybe a little soft show so that no one thought SFPD had gone over to humanist idealism, the real rule of the people.  Besides, the rest of the week I saw how neighbors came out with food, greetings, newspapers; these men were their neighbors, albeit with dirtier fingernails and a vocation that left them forever exposed to the elements.
No, everything was fine; one read the forecast while the other leaned close with interest, “It’s time for a new direction—look to the past to know your future.”