Viewing the local antiquities

The corner. 
Whistling Jersey Girl on my way home from the train, having paused, to have an excuse to pause, at a newspaper box: Squatting to read the headlines, I look up, left:

The blind is down.

I cross the street, turn, pause at the curb: Then look up again:

There she is, the blind up: In her niche.

I wave, cross the street toward her then look almost straight up, meeting her laquer-black eyes:



The Corner
[1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], and [7].


Ah. I'm glad you said "feral."

I know now what these images of women in their windows remind me of. Caged animals.

Do they want to be there?

Does that question even have any meaning, because do they have any choice?

DTG xxoo

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