the count

Every DAY at 3:00am, he's shouting:
"You stupid bitch! I'm not hitting you!"
During this minute, at least, at least his self-description's accurate.

shunsign

Every DAY, 5:50 post meridian, a subway rider - young, accompanied by friends, able-bodied and wearing a backpack - sets a popcan on the platform right outside the car doors just before they close. His problem vanishes...

Finch at Bay

Every DAY at 5am:
tiny, grey-green, in the planter by the office tower, unmoving; claws curled, yet the beak points back.

I see tips coming your way...

Every DAY, around five after ten, just after closing time,
one of the people sitting at the window table
reads the lines on the waitress's palm...

clip

Every DAY at 17:16, the sweet spot,
teetering aural totter balance point,
where the receding clops of the RCMP's two Ms
mirror the high heels' brisk advance.

cutting to the chase

Every DAY, 6:58pm, the streetcar driver hares across the road to pick several twenty-dollar bills out of the gutter, and then nips back to his side, car, seat.

I ask you

Every DAY at 22:10, he inquires of the bracketing policemen, "How can a GARbage-picker be a PANhandler?"

Polly, is that you?

Every DAY at 5:55pm, sunlight barrels through the wholesaler's shop-window lettering at just the perfect angle to personalize the t-shirt of the mannequin with her new name, (and half the t-shirt's make-up): E S T E R.

baffled, smiling

Every DAY, 22:22, his appearance in a no-name neighbourhood that bridges Chinatown and Little Italy; walking west, carrying a baffled square of brown eggs, smiling...