Sunday, August 2, 2015

Seconds Before Becoming a Sunday Memory

"We're the last tire shop in the city," the man said.

"How long do you got here?"

"Maybe seven months?" he said

"Then what?"

"I don't know.  They're talking Houston Street."

"Gotta be east by the projects, they're developing the west side..."


"This is such bullshit." 


And then there was nothing left to say because what words were left in the world that could stop barely occupied glass buildings from erasing needed businesses taxis and cars and livery and delivery trucks relied on to keep New York going.


Related Posts:

Night Boat