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Lolo took orders….like all of us, Scrambled or fried? a punchy staccato Mexican accent asked, Berrrrry good sir, and ouila…..the magicians wand was waved….

Berrrrry good sir, heard everywhere in the joint….an opera….a musical with dancing Greeks counting the till and Blonde Russians smacking gum with flirtations given away for free……maybe……

But…Jimmy stands tall….needing nothing but his job…his family….his pride…..

I should retire, the Cretin says, Too cold….too much….what you think?

Jimmy….you’d be dead in a week….

Right….better work…

The realization of poverty….to have nothing….only your wits about you….having been in the muck…..nothing to see here….all tossed aside….done away with….distributed along roadsides….alleyways….parking-lot  dumpsters…..

And then what….a nagging to oneself….How did I get stuck? Where’s my quid….a buck….a dollar…maybe shekels….?

None for you is the answer…..and you’ll learn to like that….or else….

It could be worse….you could be in a foreign country….eh?

Don’t bring that socialistic thought around here…..we’ll show you a thing or two..

Now….stop cryin’…get ta’ bed….

The thieves have work to do…..

What turns you on? she asked coyly…..did she want an answer? She got one..

Being in my room on rainy days….Coltrane blowin’ Body and Soul…..Makin’ a meal with a broad perched on a stool; hand wrapped ’round red with Green Dolphin Street playin’; Evans’ or Miles’ either will do…..

Strolling in Pelham Bay Park…..rides on the #2 train…..a slice of cheesecake shared…..books….books….books….a poem…..an elder’s remarks…..options open….

Talkin’ to ghosts…..praying to gods….hope for a future… writing about pasts……new meds with no side effects….a $1 slice…..

Love…..

Anything else?

No…..no…..that’ll do it…

Prince William playing Cricket….no problems in dear old India….Kate, the endearing wife looks-on…..swing batter…

Dexies Midnight Runners sing-out undying love of Eileen….while piles of potatoes…mountains of ’em slathered in butter salt pepper grease soaking-in…..and in breaking news…..

All the good people of Kansas, Oklahoma, Nebraska lay in bed wondering….thinking….what are those writers in New York doing?

The same as you compratriots….the same as you…

Seated at the counter…..calling for the death of Dennis DeYoung…..these are not the best of times….

The old Greek serves a cheese danish….a cup of light and sweet….the #2 keeps rolling above….

He calls out, Bacon and cheese….soft….roll, the voice doesn’t quiver; money in spotted hands; nothing shakes….

The place isn’t clean….not spotless….smells of sausage….garlic…spilt wine….eggs fried in butter….

I love it…

Pig’s ears lay in corn tortillas with cilantro and grilled onion bulbs dressing the stewed organ….or…lingua…..chorizo…tripe….Pig’s stomach…..buyer’s choice….whose got balls?….

Horchata flows….it’s sweetness hits the palate….all is right with the world…

A Mexican school girl holds a bundle of flowers while Pedro holds her….asking her what she desires…her wildest dreams….her fantasies….

I’ll take the Pig’s ears, she says softly, Yes….the Pig’s ears….

Pedro plops down a bill….kisses her on the cheek….

The #2 rides above….She kisses him back….the line forms to the right….

Next…..

She offered herself….quiet….meek…needed money for food…maybe a habit or two….I don’t like to second guess…

I do it for a $20…..no betta deal in town, a brown finger was placed on her Rouge lips, $50 for anything else, hands on hips with a motion in the middle

What are ya?

What you talkin?

Twenty-four….tops?

You in or not?

Brown eyes stared me down, No….I’m not…..I’m not….

Not a sound was made. She went her way, I went mine….

I wondered…..does she ever get lonely……

And the scene moves from Manhattan to the Bronx….Dominicans…..Arroz con Pollo rather…..no longer salt- less ….meals….no risks….no flavors….

Dark skinned girls walk the streets….hanging-on street corners….toot toot…..yeah….beep beep….but the white boys still drive-by….windows cracked….lips puckered….

Art on brick walls…reality hits….an El train brings memories of Wicker….of Humboldt…..

It’s only a matter of time…..soon Mr. Charlie will stake claims here…as he did there….and there….and still on the prowl……

Was in  Queens…..Brooklyn…..Washington Heights….Harlem….do we want blight turned shiny and new…..with masses…tossed….Maybe The East River…..

It’s a dirty job…..nobody has to do it….

Naw man dat nigga had his chance…..blew it like a champ…..I knews it’s was comin to dat, Skinny Slim slammed on his boy from the past….

Told dat nigga ta git his shit togetha……did dat nigga listen?…..Fuck no……just kept on keepin on like a rollin stone…..like a rollin stone….

Where ya goin Slim?….what’s up wid you?….

Couldn’t tell ya…can’t tell ya…..maybe headin down da same road, Slim stammered….might be
..

Ya never know Slim….

Ya better motherfuckin know…..you better….

No more of this…..asleep with an eye akimbo….free porn streamed til wee hours….not a dry cot in the joint…..

To lie awake….to walk a somnombulist stroll each morn…..for what….to encounter yet another night in the trenches….

Board a bus again…..go to a land west…..seeking warmth….seeking something…..always seeking something…..

What is it…..why is it?…..wanderer’s blues…..to tread on America in these last days of Rome……

Take it in…..just take it in….we are all just one step from the abyss…..I  welcome it….