A night out

The sirens wail while blue and red neon lights flash.
It's hard to distinguish if it's from the garrish signs or from patrol cars.
Outside the clouds of carcinogen wafts through.
You become street smart; the addicts, the girls..it's easier to know who's who now.

A row breaks out.
You just learn to ignore and duck away.

The winter chill wheezes through.
The darkness amplifies the glarring signboards.
We get on the bus.
It's almost like a mission adventure. It's even funny how they call this the outreach bus.

The hours are long. Seemingly frightening at first, but the a sort of mutual understanding between them and the service allays fears. There's no gurantee however, cravings can overtake cognition.

Needles, condoms are distributed.
The ignorant me never knew what were dams, the different sizes of rubber, or even the details of men2men s3x or girl2girl action. Or that the going price for full service was a mere 50.

We take our packs and go by foot. Into the "safe" houses.
The girls mill around, at least it's warmer here. Outside some wait, they must be chilled to the bone in their costumes. I am, in 3 layers while they fight the cold in less than one.

It's almost midnight. I take leave, won't want to miss the bus home.
With the stories I hear and see happening, imaginations must be surpressed as I cross the park alone.

But I arrive home safe and warm.
Again, it's amazing I got this placement because IMU students were not given a choice when the rest were cuz we were extras. While others are doing geriatric rehabs or reproductive, diabetes clinics, I'm dispensing methadone.