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Tenement

A knee floats high above a kiosk-splattered byway, a knee untethered from the brittleness of the brilliant end run, a knee familiar with the barleycorned lights of the harbor, a knee soon-to-be-the-subject of a full-length feature film directed by a cohort, presently in disarray, talking up a titanium replacement with a pair of bosomy twins who are here to audition for the choir of an intricate chapel at the behest of a man of the cloth who just now ducked out to get nipped and tucked. Why risk chronic stiffness? colors the quartet's first jabs as a bird of a different feather nests on the roof of a tenement pockmarked with air conditioners trucked in by mobs of Teamsters in the high heat of summer stock's seasonal playoffs. There's an Old World charm to this, and to the alopecia-plagued hound chasing a Brussels sprout across the linoleum floor laid down several scores of years ago by unemployed steeplejacks contemplating midlife career changes when all else failed. The commonplace has arrived on the scene as well, replete with contortionists hawking cut rates along the bus line, their timeworn notions inhabiting sultry nights when little else of interest is scheduled to air on the local cable. Desire overwhelms several emergency shelters. The lights throb and pulse with metaphorical otherworldliness. At times like these, it's best to overlook the cereal stains in the breakfast nook left by the stranger who at first appeared whimsical almost desultory in his buttoned-down oxford but later metamorphosed into a high-pressure hair-replacement strategist taking us aback when without asking he flashed his credentials, drank too much, and wouldn't stop talking. He'd wanted to get to know us better but we were onto him this time and late for work besides.