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.

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