5:45 PM I've got fifteen minutes to kill before class. I left the book I'm reading at home, so I guess I'll just write here to kill time, although I'm not feeling too enthusiastic about it. As I drove up, a group of little cholos on a jungle gym was mooning an old woman as I walked up to school. Listening to the Dodgers suck on my little flashlight radio. I see some of my students walking to class. The traffic files its ways along Arlington. A dog sits obstinately on Fifteenth Street. Life's pretty dull. Not much to inspire. Ten minutes to go. What else? I had peanut butter on my face, and my belt was undone while I turned in my paperwork late to teach summer school and was summarily warned by the Asst. Principal. I didn't notice myself until I was back out at the car. I wonder if they noticed. My fly was down while I went to get lunch today, too. No one said anything. Maybe they didn't see. Plastic pink flamingos stand idly above the weeds in a fenced yard with a hand-painted FOR RENT sign.