Weary

A woman is cemented to the concrete outside of a Dunkin Donuts on a warm Autumn Day while my radio is throwing the words 'economy' and 'crashing' in my ears. My face is overwhelmed by the heat and the traffic of a five-way intersection in South Boston. It made me sad to see her. She didn't look dead, just really beat up by life, by heroin. Dunkin Donuts was this Faustian presence, beyond the reach of a listless arm that couldn't reach no more.