[ it’s only a matter of time ]

I found this today. I wrote it in 2007 when I was working at Nico’s and continually depressed by the hustle and bustle on Brookline Boulevard. As sad and jaded a picture it paints, I like it.

CONSIDER THIS PROSE: The Steel City

Midnight on the Boulevard of broken dreams, this town’s never looked so broken down. Can’t you hear the people screaming? They’re crying out for salvation from a downward spiral they can’t escape.

See the old man with the blue plastic luggage? He’s got his whole life packed in those grocery bags, reading the same old trashy mags, living off bottles in paper bags. I’m sure he hasn’t showered in a year, but he won’t ask you for money.

And what about those sisters with the sweet little boy? They take turns all day getting in and out of cars with less-than-perfect-gentlemen and keeping an eye on the kid. It’s enough to break your heart, just watching them scream that it’s not what it seems, when you’re only wondering who they’re trying to convince.

Have you met the window washer? He’ll clean up your store front in his neon Kennywood hat- but he just can’t seem to clean up his act. But for an extra ten bucks, he’ll throw in some extra streaks on the glass, take out the trash, he’s just a little short on cash. “Consequences are expensive friends.”

The same old solicitors are knocking at the door. Everybody’s got something to sell. The bootleggers have b-movies and brand new releases for just five dollars. The smart-mouthed salesmen have CD Players and digital cameras for sale. Save big! Brand new! Just fell off the truck. Then there’s the dealers, pushing their wares. You can even buy Jesus, just ask the Jehovah’s – they’re everywhere. Searching for one more soul that only they can save.

And as for me? I’ll sell you a pack of lies. And for the right price, I’ll even make it rhyme.

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