By Kevin Estrada

It's cold in the big city, but no matter how rough things get at 53rd and 3rd you can always look forward to the weekend.

"TGIF, Giants …
Giants, TGIF”

once i saw him eating a hot dog with a vendor for
Nuts-4-Nuts, the name never barked: a cart,
a non-intrusive canopy bore its letters

i cannot tell that he has few front teeth
or new sunglasses in dim winter
he grins close-mouthed,
though he sneers
in the direction of a suit
maneuvering his way
eager to escape

“TGIF…TGIF”,
a cup rattle

this morning he supinely lays peaceful
a crushed box
for a pillow
while everyone trudges to work
heavy heels, hooves, booths,
sallow unsmiling faces
are not loud enough
to wake him up

at 5pm he is as enthusiastic as me

“TGIF”
his white cup jingles

he’s got a hold of this midtown station
not bad for a king
or a troll demanding toll