Downtown

 

     The sidewalk is thick with overcoats attempting to make their way through the city.  Mine has made this trip long enough to collect and forever hold the smells of hotdog vendors, oriental spices and despair.  I have a face that goes unnoticed and is quickly forgotten by those who bother to focus.  It is an existence that I’ve learned to accept and it comes with the comfort in knowing that I am only followed by the memory of where I’ve just been and my own footprints.

 

     The brim of my hat blocks out the tallness of the buildings as well as signals the height of my ambition.  I look no farther ahead than the next obstacle - quickly calculating the path of least resistance.  I’ve become quite skilled at sidewalk travel – though I’d hardly recommend it.

   It is the tourist that will trip you up.  The squeak of a postcard rack and their ears perk up, they'll stop abruptly or suddenly turn.

 

     Nobody can prepare for something like that.