Posted on

NY Night (mid-70s)

by Jeff Glovsky

This city, even under the weight of fat tourists, reeks of thirty years ago:  all the noise and crime and ghetto-blasting; drugs, ill-tempered ugliness … Its beauty become horrible, its awfulness old hat.

Now from a deli, as if to assert this assessment, a middle-aged white guy, fists clenched in a trenchcoat, bleeds onto the naughty pavement followed by three shrieking, young Bronx chicks.  “Fuckin’ white bitch!” among others, these howl … hurling a swirling hot coffee his way.

Turn and watch white guy trip away:  clenched trenchcoat flapping (fists within), tight, birdlike, frightened, in a hurry …

Snort, laugh and cackle, back into their deli!  Laugh and cackle, black and howling …

Nighttime, still another scene:  a car horn bleats and deafens, blared out only by a fire truck.

This fire truck roars on to hell … It finally makes it through the mess of traffic at a stop light; lays off laying on its foghorn finally, fades into a distance …

Cross-fade, back to car horn bleat, still:  frozen at the red light now and seemingly unhappy.  See pedestrians implore the solid noise and cease of silence; shrug “What’s up?” and shout “piss off” and “fuck you!” … Light turns green, the car horn screams still.

…Sails through the intersection, middle finger raised.

And then half-crazed!  The Asian woman clings with unexpected life to her beige duffel bag …

Hear naughty pavement crack and thud; see blood, and feel hair pulled …

She holds on to her dear bag — containing everything, yet nothing — as four others kick it open and fat tourist traffic watches.

Advertisements

About Jeff Glovsky

Dividing his time between New York City and Munich, Germany, Jeff Glovsky is a Writer, Photographer, business partner / entrepreneur and AV / presentation support guy with a live sound engineering background.