New York City, April 7, 2015

★★ There were minor variations in the gray of the sky, while the gray of the river was as flat as a puddle of spilled institutional paint. A few raindrops fell purposelessly, and then the wind seemed to organize them as it gusted. By late day there was full rain, crackling on the trash bags and pocking against the hood of the rain jacket. In the span of a literary event it subsided, leaving the usual shiny streets and slishing tires. A big rat wandered calmly along subway the platform, on the yellow warning strip, trailed the shining light of someone’s phone camera. A young man on a bench rocked back and slapped his feet down when the rat ventured in his direction, which made it stop but not retreat. Uptown it was raining again and the wind was blowing. Breath steamed.