Slumped over in a neighborhood you’ve no reason being slumped over in. Wealth all over your body and chest breathy slow, steady. Brain just smacked for the moment and stripper money, $2-bills bunched up in all pockets cushioning your current leisurely lean. Drool draws like sap off your lip and a gaze that waters the lines of buildings, the sidewalks, and street. People speaking four or five languages you don’t speak. Nobody notices but a child with a balloon shaped like a vegetable who flicks you a quarter yelling, “Double check.” The coin hits the pavement, rolls to the bottom of your boot, and it worth a dollar. Or so. And you don’t reach for it. You reach for the volume dongle on your headphones to turn up FREEZA BURN by 5G x OOGIE MANE. Maybe an hour or two more and you’ll get up and continue to paint this city.