On the walk to the library, I pass by yet another day care center set up in a family house as an ingenious way to make money. I see overweight women talking away the day while children run around behind iron bars in The South Bronx under a (unlicensed?) banner of Dora The Explorer. Coming back home, I see the children’s brains still being wired for running around that will get them left behind in school.

 

 As I write this, the five black children upstairs are, as always, making stampede that disturbs concentration on writing about them being taken out of a homeless shelter for a better life in a building that is across the river from Riker’s Island Prison. The city pays the Hasidim landlord about $2,800 to house them in an apartment with a view of The Ortiz Funeral Home.

 

 For that kind of money, shouldn’t this poor designed program be upgraded to make it mandatory for their mother to take them to reading programs at The Public Library?

 

I told this to a well-dressed African-American employee of the program and he disrespectfully walked away from me far removed from It Takes A Village To Raise A Child and Help Me Howard. IT’S ALL ABOUT THE MONEY, an African- American politician screamed on a wiretap before he was arrested just like a Puerto Rican politician secretly videotaped in The South Bronx of America as seen on NBC News.

 

 On Father’s Day, I woke up to what sounded like an air strike over my ceiling and found myself walking on water like Jesus when someone upstairs left the kitchen faucet running. It was coming down in gushers as cracks appeared on wall. It’s Déjà vu all over again like Yogi Berra said at The House That Babe Ruth Built several blocks away from our neighborhood so close to The Bronx Family and Criminal Courthouses

 

 Five minutes layer, the Dominican Spanish speaking super (whom I tried to get to attend free NYPL English classes) went from knocking to banging on the door. When it finally open, I had to translate for him to the mother of half naked children staring at me.

 

Oh, I forgot to close the faucet, she said and began to close the door without an apology. She has a satellite dish outside her fire escape. Guess she went wanted to get back to TV immune to a commercial that states A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

 

I fear for her children.

 

This city is allowing their minds to grow like toxic mold on bathroom walls. Soon it’ll be time to harvest another crop of criminals by bullets and chokeholds in The Funeral City of Illegal Guns and Roses. But what do I know. I’m a hobo with a library card soon to be a movie because books are nearly obsolete.

 

Like Mark Twain wrote, everything done by humans is pathetic.

 

21 Century is gangrening and I have to play at being doctor?

Oh, can I play Doctor Who? You kids love that TV show?

So be it. I have a dream for The City That Never Sleeps…

 

It’s time to wake up sleepyhead adults before Duh End

 

(The Theme From Doctor Who plays as credits roll)