NO MUSIC LIKE HOMETOWN
I went to the lighting district to get a tray.
There were fourteen Asians standing around
eating dumplings and smoking cigarettes.
They sure do still smoke a lot.
The small stores there, all arrayed, showed
lights and fixtures in every window. Next to
them, cheek by jowl, were all the restaurant
equipment supply houses. Sinks and stoves
and giant dough-mixers, bar-stools and
glasses. Wow, what a mix there.
No place to park. Nowhere. Every car around
was honking and angry with sound. Inner
turmoils as drivers punched their steering
wheels in anger. At going nowhere? Why
bother. Even those who call this home.
sometimes want to stay - and other
times to get away. So situations such
as this always fix themselves.
It's easy, if you just wait around.
No music, like hometown.