
New York City. 1983. The city that never sleeps, though she may spit on your lapel if you piss her off. The air was thick and humid in the summer, the yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes was either the pollution or a bum reliving himself, either way you woke up wanting to wash your mouth out before your morning coffee.
This was my city, my mistress. She sucked every ounce of strength from my bones and every cent from my wallet. One day she was gonna pay me back. Little did I know. I was going to get paid back, in spades.
The corner of 5th and 51st street, down the block some kids were breakdancing on a flat cardboard box, up the street some hustler was taking money from a tourist, on the corner, I was creating poetic lyrics.
This is for a dVerse prompt: To write a contribution you will have to incorporate the given line into a piece of prose of no longer than 144 words (including the given line but excluding the title). You may punctuate and divide the line as you want, but you cannot insert any words into the line. The line: ‘The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes’ from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Elliot.
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Love this slice-of-life piece! The way you incorporated the prompt line made me chuckle 😄
“The air was thick and humid in the summer, the yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes was either the pollution or a bum reliving himself, either way you woke up wanting to wash your mouth out before your morning coffee.” 👌🏼👌🏼
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Thank you so much. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I really like this piece I just wish someone would write the whole story. I’d read it! 😂
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This is a description of a city-life that I believe is mostly gone… and even though some paint it differently it is so different now… but I’m sure that things got lost in the transformation
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I too think it is gone. And though I wasn’t in NYC around ’82, I did go in the late 80’s and early 90’s a bit. One of my favorite cities.
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