hot as a sauna
muggy summer air descends
on Manhattan streets
HAIKU
hot as a sauna
muggy summer air descends
on Manhattan streets
SALMAGUNDI
Your brain knows way before your mind does.
Slow-motion punches in the face.
Word problems for future hedge fund managers.
Gin, Television, and Social Surplus.
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[I talk to taxi drivers. I know most New Yorkers don't. But I'm curious to hear their stories, their thoughts on our city. Hence this new intermittent reporting series, relaying at least a bit of what I find out.]
The lady got in the back seat, thoroughly sloshed. It was shortly after 4:00 in the morning. They were at the southwest corner of fifty-fourth and eighth.
"Take me to fifty-fourth and eighth," she slurred.
They went back and forth a few rounds - he explaining they were already there, she (increasingly vehemently) telling him to shut up and do his job.
So he drove across fifty-fourth, turned down Broadway, back onto fifty-third, then up eighth. A perfect one block circle.
Which corner?
"The near right, please," she replied. Exactly where he'd found her.
She opened the door with some difficulty, leaned back to slip a twenty through the divider.
"Thanks," she said. "And keep the change."