Trade and Tryon

I drive my German-touring car to Uptown.
My car spends the day sheltered in an underground garage.
I’m dressed in my long, leather coat trimmed in black fox
and black kid gloves lined with cashmere.
Totting my red leather bag, heavy with laptop, Blackberry and iPhone,
I move up the two blocks on Trade.

I’m the man on the corner of Trade and Tryon
in the shadow of the Pelli tower.
My Pittsburgh Steelers jacket, gray sweatshirt and beanie are my everyday look.
They smell, me too.
But, it’s not so chilly today.

My 60-story, rose-marble building crowns our city.
Surrounded by dazzling glass, splashing water and fresh roses,
I start my day with freshly- squeezed orange juice with heavy pulp accompanied by raspberry preserves on my French croissant.

My day starts on empty, looking for a day job
even a coffee would go far
It’s only twenty-five cents for a Circle K refill.
Can I find an empty cup in the garbage

My work ties me to the ping of mail.
My most important decision of the day will consist of ‘who’ owns a project.
My boss neither notices or cares, unless I do wrong.
Why do I seek honor from people who matter not at all?
By dark, I go to dinner in the new Italian restaurant with my gal pals,
and share vacation stories.

It was a slow day looking for work,
I tried the new arena site and
the yard of lumber.
I picked through the garbage near Starbucks
looking for fast food scraps.
By dark, I walk slowly to the cot in the church basement.
Another day gone.

We see but are blind.

Circa 1996 ~ Clyde in Charlotte, North Carolina

​Story inspirations and ideas are my own. Thus, positive reactions are welcome. Criticism not.