this morning i had the strangest adventure.  on the way to work i crossed the street at 29th & j.  on the south side of j st is an ampm gas station/convenience store.  on the north side - my walking route - is a building that is home to several medical services, including nick's former pediatric dentist.  beside this building is a rt bus station.  i spied three guys at the bus station.  a street person sitting on a brick planter adjacent to the building, a dude sitting on a junky bmx bike wearing a baseball cap & backpack & another dude standing across from the bmx guy wearing a maroon t-shirt.  these two guys look to me to be in their late teens/early twenties.  i'm in a hurry to get to the office.  i know how long my walk takes to get there.  45 minutes.  i've seen & heard & experienced all kinds of situations & peoples in my walking journeys in my beloved city but this was a first for me.  as i crossed the street i was trying to figure out how to navigate around or thru them.  curtesy usually means the person taking the most room of the sidewalk steps aside for the person who is passing thru.  no go for these dudes.  but there was enough room for me to walk between them.  maroon t-shirt guy sees me.  he starts addressing me in this low, aggro monotone, way to provoke a response from me, 'hey motherfucker smile.  why don't you smile.  i'm only trying to help you.'  i keep walking.  i am between them.  bmx guy has something in his hands. it falls at my feet.  i look down at my feet.  a handgun.  my mind is trying to comprehend the thing i am looking at.  a gun?  is that a real gun?  i give the pair the benefit of the doubt.  it's a gun.  for a split split second i thought to kick it down the street if maroon t-shirt guy amplifies his aggro.  but no.  maroon t-shirt mr. mumbles & bmx bike butterfingers shut the fuck up.  i stepped over the weapon & continued my walk to i st where i made a left toward downtown.  believe me when i say i was calm as fuck.  i did not feel threatened from maroon t-shirt mr. mumbles or bmx bike butterfingers.  i have no idea why he had the gun in his hands as i approached.  but when the gun dropped both were like OOPS!  & OH FUCK!  i did think for a moment that i could get shot in the back as i walked away from the pair.  but i felt safe.  & these two doofuses did not threaten me directly with their weapon.  they dropped it, by accident, at my feet.  twenty minutes later, halfway to work, did the weight of the situation hit me with all its force.  two dorks were packing heat in broad daylight a few blocks from my home.  the adrenaline rush shook me hard.  i texted anna, i texted a few friends, i told my coworkers.  anna posted my adventure on a social media site that went viral for the day.  i got lots of advice, get a concealed carry permit & a gun, notify rt bus service, report the incident to the police etc etc.  finally, i can't say these two committed a crime.  perhaps for possession of an unregistered gun?  but to play devil's advocate, ain't this america?  doesn't every citizen have a right to bear arms?  i posed that question to a gun-loving friend.  he replied, not those two!  okay, then who.  become a good guy with a gun?  this ain't the wild west.  guns scare the shit out of me.  they are made for one purpose.  to kill.  i will not own a weapon.  i am a poet.  the poet's job - if you want to call it an occupation - is, in the words of omar perez, to have fun & observe & comment on what you are observing.  that's what i'm going to do.  that's what i told anna, i am not getting a gun myself or a concealed carry permit, or tell rt bus service.  but i am sure as hell gonna write about my adventure.  & put my experience in language in a kind of order & create in a world that oftentimes lacks coherence & clarity.  this is my first attempt.