Waiting for the Day

Cold night and the ghosts of wood are out. Must be. I just told a NYC cop to have a bad night. I mean dark black, bald headed, wearing clear glasses and they sent him to get me off the subway stairs, what else can he have but a bad night? There’s no good day for that. And that just after a group of white men wheeled their very many travelling bags by me. They must be moving the freak out. Just minding my business on a cold Nowhere night, working. I work day and night now in Nowhere Land. I need Cold wears. I’ll take this book to the end. My humanity asks of it. You can still order Truth. Somewhere I live this weekend. Night and day color the same for the same individual. Yes, the book  is that important. This version of delimitation is called “waiting for the day.”