Around a pole on which is nailed a sign saying, “fine for dumping $300,” sits the remains of multiple feeble white trash bags and their former innards.
On a corner near said pole and accompanying rubbish, a man with tooth-gapped smiles vends illicit stimulants to regular buyers.
With sweeping views of pole, person, and debris, I stare and seethe from my newly built abode.
On a scorching Saturday, the man and his regular buyers, with snow shovel and gloved hands, stashed the trash in strong sacks immune to rodents and roaches.
Later that day, I thanked him. He, with tooth-gapped smile, replied, “It stank. Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Kareem.”
