he walk w/ a ragged ‘n rolled up sleep-bag on each shoulder. one act a blanket. one serve a mattress. just fetched them of his 24/7 storage locker. now seek the street-spot that seem least restless
sleep routine to he, routine practice. occasionally pedestrian (curiously) note the load… but then there’s that 24/7 car wash that each time he pass stare as: what this darling on?
'don’t worry,’ think blondyn, 'got this.’
he mean the sleep bags. true, he do. and tho knowing flow of night ever beyond him, trust spirit, heart, mind, only due to prove
while wash-crew idly watch on @ his immediate right, taxis cars wick'ly tear by on his immediate left, where West Side Highway fly urban circulation & beyond it, Intrepid War Ship
Intrepid War Ship — a once WWII Fighter, now Sea Air & Space Museum NYC. no matter what street he opt for ZZZ at, blondyn always make sure to catch his peek
Intrepid, he think, have to be, and be to be and be to be, and tho w/ his moments, he remember Intrepid good times hard times all in flux