2 Subway. A New York Day, 1992.

Earlier, in the afternoon, another thin man, this one white, much older, wrinkled, missing front teeth, asked for money on the lower level of a subway station. He was unkept. He looked at me. And he said something. But I. I shook my head and he moved on, waddling, his legs far apart with crotch mid thigh trousers way too big. Faint, then not faint at all, the smell of excrement.

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