Girls with black-eyes walk-by waiting for a coded door…opening for relief…. a wash….for whatever….work with me here…..time is short….

Just like a prayer….Madonna becomes McDonald’s Muzak…… hoodies rest on table-tops….. half-filled coffee cups, Sir….Sir….you cannot rest here…You have to leave, a loud Latin tongue tells, Those are the rules sir…..THOSE ARE THE RULES, she didn’t make them…….

Watching with empty pockets…..not an empty soul……all is witnessed….recorded daily…. clothes clean…..hair trimmed…..eyes clear….breath fresh…..no-one knows…..

A white guy showered in humility….crying at the drop of a bill doled out……For whom?…..The constant questioning, Sir….Do you have……Could you help….I just need…..

Yes….yes…..yes…..I get it……

Early idealism begins to fade….fraud is a way of life……You cannot live by the rules….JP Morgan would tell you that…..

And a shakedown is a shakedown…a hustle..is a hustle…..Why wait in-line…..What will it cost?……

Nothing……nothing….nothing…..Just hide and keep your mouth shut….

Roger that……