Tonight will pulse with people
and the passing thumps of automobiles.
The Harleys have all gone from South Street,
and as darkness pours in with the
beautiful, no one will notice the scattered
trash and blackened gum of the city.
For now its mostly tourists, and not much to see.
Im watching this man in the doorway
of the astral-alternative Spiritual Shop, trying
to replace a hinge. Hes not very South Street,
thin button-down and jeans worn to a blur
riding the tops of white socks
three inches above his sneakers.
The bright orange screwdriver slips
its groove, and he looks at me accusingly.
My eyes run across to the bright pink
TATTOO. Jaime emerges
with change for the meter, and we
move up the street.