Cigarette in the tray and a half empty can. In a time of constant rain sitting here waiting for the coming storm in an orange shirt. Flow of days - work rivers roaring with storm water - weed swamp creeks of the drink and smoke acting as poison reservoirs that often bleed from log jams making jagged twisted currents in the flow. Walking the paved banks of the tidal river with earphones in the morning, before the sunrise, the homeless and the hobo crowds - track jumped from the CSX line - waking up; and in the humid afternoon women jogging in painful shorts sometimes look over from the run - making the mind wander from the bearded ugly self - to the cool swift river slipping through.