On a platform, the man in worn clothes whistles like a zebra finch. Raising an aluminum can to his mouth he says to me

If you, my friend, are ever mugged and assaulted by a 79-year-old woman whose predilection for negotiating a shit world lags behind a broken curve, and then if you black out and wake up on the train to Rockaway Beach you must do two things: Go, and spend the whole day listening to the damn waves crash

and drinks it down in one.

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