On a clear fall day I took a short, perfect city walk. Down 14th from Fifth to Hamilton, over the canal and right on Centre Street, left on Smith & right on 9th. Back up 9th, over the canal again, and home. A truck-sighting nirvana. The Ridin' Dirty, with a barely covered siren lounging on the side of her lime green cab. The holiday ghouls, Kruger cousins, under the Gowanus on a Russo grille. More than enough cement trucks, drums churning, churning, churning, to turn the whole damn borough into one giant foundation. And this one, that I chased along Smith. Everywhere it went it brought poetry.
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