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Cities Commonplace Book

Dry knuckles and Electric Scooters

January’s winds are merciless, splitting open dry knuckles with blood slivers. 9-to-5ers power-walk the final two blocks to their warm cubicles and electric standing desks.

A few trees down from the office, in-front of Heavy Burger, a strange collection of city trash lies. A toppled lime electric scooter, neck twisted, lays between the road and the side walk. An aluminum silver Baby Ruth candy bar wrapper flaps next to the handlebars. And a nylon purple poncho, a size 8 step away from the wrapper, collects rain in its creases.

A frazzled commuter left it all behind.

By Jack Fuzz

Blogger. Amateur Midfielder.

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