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Afternoon in Brooklyn 2
AFTERNOON IN BROOKLYN 2
Men in courtyards of a bus station playing volley ball, yelling and swearing in sport and competition.
Seagulls overhead screaming to each other as if to communicate the location of a fresh pile of garbage.
Hookers walk the street in the day light, whores missing teeth, dirty clothes so unattractive, wonder if she knows?
A workforce of two hundred immigrant’s most probably illegal, keep busy at their jobs and herd like cattle to lunch truck at noon. They dine on yesterday’s baked goods and plastic wrapped foods.
Taxis and busses use the small narrow streets as raceways, there’s is nothing appealing to the eye, maybe an occasional Spanish beauty strutting by.
All is dirty and gritty, down on Wortman ave in Brooklyn city. Hot and stuffy a concrete creation, close and narrow near suffocation.
Watching the clock as the hours pass, there is no carousel, no ring of brass.
For a place to decay like this, is very much a pity, down on Wortman ave in Brooklyn city.
