No Polaroid Today

When I look north out the train over the East River in the morning I see the U.N. building. When I look south at the right time, just past the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges I can see that little speck of the Statue of Liberty.
This morning, to the north over the East River, I saw a row of construction workers on the scaffolding eating sandwiches. To the south I saw two 25 foot sailboots under power, sails tied up, motoring in straight line. Across from me, an old Chinese couple, pot-bellied and holding canes, his feet touching the floor exactly, hers just so that when she crossed her legs at the ankle the toes of her sneakers dragged across the floor. There was a pretty Polish girl in a short skirt, nut-brown from the June sun like her great grandfather had married a Romanian.
We let our son wander around the apartment without his diapers on, just to air him out. He pooped and peed right next to the low couch and we had to clean it up and give him a little rinse. When I left for work he was playing with his wooden train and my wife folded his clothes into the drawers.
Its going to be in the mid80s today and I am wearing thin trousers.
My bicycle chain is rusted and loose and when I come off the bridge it pops off and I don't have any breaks since they are the pedal kind and I might just kill myself that way. Besides, the train is air conditioned.