“Drink at night. Beg during the day. Borrow cigarettes and shill for quarters. Sex in the bushes. Wet and dry. Leaves stuck to concrete. The warm breath of bakeries. The call of the crowded bars on Howard Street. Those animal weeks and the seasons spent in scrounged sleeves and picked pants. The jabber of the crazies and the taste of dirt and liquor. The still dread of body pain. Pee burning down a pant leg on a frigid night. A hollow day passed on a park seat in October.”

from Percival
by Anton Lucash