From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sight
I’m leaning against the drugstore window, squinting past my reflection in a wool cap to catch a snapshot of those new electric clocks glowing under the neon. It’s all jazz and jittery nerves today, especially with the newsboys hollering that the Chemung was sunk by Austrians, the American ship going down with our flag still flying in that cold Atlantic soup. My girl is humming "Poor Butterfly" while we window-shop, but I can’t stop staring at the bold black ink of the headlines. It feels like we’re all just drifting toward No Man’s Land while the world burns for six cents a loaf.