IN PORTLAND TODAY
BY YEYIN CHIN
I gave the very last bullet on earth to Hanz Valasquez, world citizen, and at the exact same moment the casing hit the light grey sidewalk in red-hot comparison to the cold, navy-blue night. The bullet ironically made a home in one homeless Dorothy L., tent occupant who resided in, on, or around the physical address of one, Portland Street, on one Portland Street, Portland, Oregon, United States of America — and to this republic, for food stands, one nation, a hot dog, with liberty and ketchup for all. The inside of Miss L.’s tent looked like a festive fourth of a bottle of Heinz 57 festooned festively. This is how things go down in our flavor-town, where faces on the streets are as obscure and artisanal as our microbrews. Dreary drag queens, lumberjack lesbians, holy hipsters, Meier & Frank Bloods, and J.C. Penny Crips loiter at the Lloyd Center letting loose lemon drop vested vape smoke or puffing progressively more powerful pools of purple passion fruit at Pioneer Courthouse Plaza, while the obligatory Volvos and Subarus race to beat the Red Line Max on its very own tracks. There is not a single, actual Timberwolf in sight, but there are geese in Goose Hollow when the geese are in season and feeling fashionable enough to override the rain and the grey May feels surmountable in Portland today. | YC