CITY SIDEWALK Hundreds of pocks and pits improvise tunes as alley breezes blow over their rims — tunes only my low heels can hear and stomp to. Walking to Central, I don’t know these raucous curbs as well as the fellow with eyes averted, scuffling toward me, heading to some long line or bus stop. Year after year after year. I’ll need weeks or months treading this worn sidewalk of his before I can hum above hoarse mufflers, “Good Morning, Sir.” by Tee Zeehan
. . HAPPY NEW YEAR! For 2012, my pen name will be: “Tee Zeehan” . . . . . . .