but – but – the change machine...

Every DAY, at some ungodly hour, they're copying out signs to go up in the window of the laundromat: it's CLOSED FOR INNOVATION.

on our way to a paperless office...

Every DAY, during an unrecorded minute in an undisclosed location, the passenger window of the sports car's smashed; the computer printer lies inert in the back seat, the filing cabinet at rest in the dark-green hearse parked ahead of it...

gag reflex

Every DAY around seven p.m., he puts an empty carton at the curb for pick-up marked:

Disposable Tongue
Depressors

Sight gag? On-sight gag? OK, maybe it's just me...

Extra, extra...

Every DAY, around 5:50 in the morning,
a squirrel buries a brown chestnut
deep inside the hollow
of the rolled-up morning paper on the steps.

amid hankerings for change, a blessing

Every DAY at noon, a fellow pedestrian you're overtaking starts to empty his nose onto the sidewalk with enthusiastic diligence. When you say, "Eeeuw" or something equally evocative, he looks up, still festooned, to say, "I'm sorry, sir; I don't have any choice: I'm all stuffed up."

...and you didn't give him fifty cents?!

Every DAY, just before 8pm, the guy in the wheelchair on College promises you that the big computer-store box on the ground beside him will perform a dance for you, for only fifty cents.

away home

Every DAY, at 18:25, pacing the gate latch, (on the business end, yet), there's a ladybug, its wings folded inexpertly, a novice with a roadmap, so black tails stick out the back of its shiny red car doors, so where are we? - beats me - right, we can't get in.