The other day on the bus the guy in front of me had wildly greasy hair, and I wondered, like the oils oozing from the leaves of plants, could a person have certain intoxicating properties layering the space between their mane? Much by accident if a single strand of hair were to trickle down into my coffee, and the oils dissolved into the cooling beverage, I may find out in an unsuspected trip.
Meanwhile to my right, Cabrini Green's last tenement is coming down, looking like a half assed swipe of a McVey bombing.
The bus driver is in a jolly good mood. He's whistling old TV theme songs; The Andy Griffith Show, The Twilight Zone...and moves in and out of others; Pink Panther and hits of the 80s and 90s.
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