Sunday, April 6, 2008

NYC Street Corner

I'm walking with a few co-conspirators from Penn Station barely maneuvering thru a crowd on a street corner debating the Lost Tribe of Israel and I hear one guy say the word "cop" stands for Constantly On Patrol and I think about copping a plea or a feel but I flee like a flea off a dog annointed with a collar, cutting through the crowd, toning down the stimuli and humming internally a song I forgot the words to; but that's all right -- this is an odd way to stay in touch with people I've lost touch with -- so, let's get together soon at a bar in between us and line 'em up!

1 comment:

R. Narvaez said...

Cop out. Cop a squat. Cop a cetic. The City's oily, steamy underground allows for a surplus of everything, clouded in human smell. Muttering about the Circle Line and the Lion King, and staring somberly and soberly at tiny colored maps, Lost Tribes, wearing matching fleece outfits, may be found every day on the G line, whose conductor seems to be the Flying Dutchman, working for the MTA on a visa. Avoid the crowds. Get your ticket. Tap the keg. See you there.