24th Street

When I swung the glass door open and stepped out, there was New york city smelling of poop. A few daffodils were drying, and a girl in a very short red skirt walked by. It was largely cloudy then and there were cops not just on every corner but between each long block. It was one of those rare days when I didn't mind the underground train ride. The book I am reading had me chuckling and I would have welcomed delays.