Homeless Harry is a local neighborhood man living in the streets of Brooklyn. He talks to himself quite often.
HARRY: …jeans…sometimes a sneaker on Canal Street and a flip flop on Broadway…one time a door knob, a butter knife, a brand new cardboard box with nothing inside, a five dollar bill, a tie with a sauce stain on it, a wounded pigeon once that I tried to bring to a hospital and they wouldn’t let me…they wouldn’t let me… a stack of playing cards all over the ground once, a finger.
One time I found a finger, a human pinkie. Put it in my pocket, to try and find the woman it belonged to. It was a woman cause of the long polished nail. Pretty finger, white girl. Maybe in her twenties. Skin was still soft, at least after I cleaned it off at the water fountain in Central Park. But I never found her.
Kept the nail and made it into a necklace that I gave to my friend Rita, who is dead now. Took the necklace back and gave it to a prostitute named Luna but then Luna asked me about it and I told her and it turned out to be her friend’s finger.
Turns out there was a young prostitute who was making a run out of New York and her pimp found out and cut off her pinkie. He said, “something needs to stay if your gonna leave.” That’s what Luna told me he said. So he took this girls pinky. And I was right. She was in her early twenties after all. Crazy how I knew that.
…half a book of matches, a few broken watches…a medal from some kind of running marathon, a bible…all kinds of magazines, wasted lottery tickets, every now and then a t.v. set, a vacuum once…
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