Courtesy of MLusk at Weather Records
The Arizona Immigration Law : The Ok Oh Perspective
I stepped out of the apartment, as I have on a handful of occasions in the last ten days, at around 4:30 am. Two white SUV stretch limousines pulled off the bridge ( I would later pass one on the LIE, wondering if it was the same.) Three cop cars, one with lights going, sped by. A train rumbled left, then a train rumbled right. A hipster on his Schwinn bicycle sped by. Two Central Americans carried on a loud conversation across the street, having not seen each other in quite a while apparently. I checked the digital clock on the dashboard, eleven minutes fast, but still in the right ballpark. As I fastened the straps to the roof of the car, a fourth cruiser rolled near, the police officer on the passenger side giving me an eyeball. It was cold and I shivered in my t-shirt. A vaguely directional wind blew harder than it should have. Had there been a crash of glass breaking followed by a tortured cat's yowl I wouldn't have been surprised. I honestly thought twice. The second time being longer than the first.
The Hasid groped through his right jacket pocket, stuffing the massive, dog-eared, leather bound book between his left armpit and the crook of his left elbow and wrestled with the Blackberry© brand mobile phone before typing a short missive with slightly under-sized fingers. Keeping the Blackberry© balanced in the clutch of his right hand, he re-opened the tome, peering once again out from under his velour porkpie at the page sectioned into three columns of varyingly-sized Hebrew. Each page: medium on the left, big in the middle, extra small on the right, looking as if any one might flee the spine at an inopportune sneeze. I remembered, fortunately, that Hebrew is read backwards, like Chinese. The Blackberry© chimed again. More questions. Always more questions.