it's four in the mornin' and the city's sleepin 'cept for me and my kind,
... and them.

i turn the corner and i can see him at the curb in the middle of the block, hiding among the cigarette butts and beers cans, the broken glass and used condoms, the ubiquitous philadelphia detritus.

he thinks I don't see him as he lays in wait, but i got this sixth sense.

i don my swagger, leading each step with my alternate shoulder, arms swingin' behind my back as i strut towards the patrol car from the thirty ninth police precinct.

unseen, the carefully packaged spoonful drops to the sidewalk behind me and instantly pretends to be street rubble,

and i'm dutifully surprised when 'the man' exits his vehicle, shoves me against a wall and begins to ***** me like he knows me.

after awhile he gets bored and tells me to go home.  I turn the corner at the end of the block.

"hello, po lease? **** gettin' real, y'know what I mean?  Maurice be wasted and he not too happy wid his ol lady. and he be packin'! better hurry! yeh, 4228 fairmount."

heard sirens, peeped around the corner and the trash had a new demeanor.

I happily retrieved my spoonful.