Having traveled through many countries and their respected time zones, I decided to go early to shop at the Coop when it opened at 6am. With nothing in the fridge, I hoped to find something open, to sip, before I could get to the store.
I entered the heavy summer night air and passed the lines of trash in their neat bundles representing an anthropological study of the middle class; a homeless man startled me, (or I he) as his body moved and eyes fluttered from the niche his body had formed into the Methodist Church steps. Bagel stores gates were half rolled and bakery deliveries ambled down making big truck noises. Another homeless fellow with a packed shopping cart was doing push-ups on the corner of Third and that burst of energy made me cross over and turn back on Seventh and head to my destination instead of meandering in the dark.
Passing PS 321 on Second Street I saw a very wasted black prostitute servicing a rather young white male. She on the stoop, he standing. How very sacrilegious on our pristine public school, known as the best in the city.
