Streetrag ::: An Urban Notebook ::: Podcast

Pinned between the red and white tablecloths of a forgotten burger baron and the glistening switchblades of Clareview: Belvedere train station. its stained glass windows pour a teaspoon of beauty onto the concrete platform and i’m catching the 708 outta belvedere the wind rips over the place, icicles on beards, frost on toques, blush on cheeks the man with the dirty white hardhat holds a red cherry fag in his left claw got a scowl that could drown a thousand apprentice mudjackers the foreman’s lid gets him $37.50 an hour but i guess it’s not enough to wipe away the bourbon cracking his eye sockets or the cutting oil from his bootlaces puts his smoke out with a size 13 stomp his sparks fly into the snowy white