Churning over city, like a new dance where people fall into each other. It’s black & black and the colds over, for walking hours on end. Ten dollars and a coat with blood on, it need’s cleaning and this week has been the worst. Take a left, there’s a wash-eteria on Ave A, they stay open late, down there i always see an old black woman, free magazines and a coffee machine, round- round it’s water and cloth.
With lights like these, who needs friends. The powder smell too much, I do outside for a smoke. The car pulls up and she was inside, tears and red down her small pretty face, Slipping out of her coat she pulls one and I finish the Camel before being slept away to heaven above. You know the story.