Night Bivouac at the Corner Post

Crosswalk traffic quieted down once the evening chill set in. Lingering exposed beside the brass gear pointer was sloppy discipline. I pulled back along the granite curb seam to the heavy cast-iron flange anchoring the corner signal post. Behind the iron skirt, wedged tight in the masonry hollow, sat a discarded, flattened tin candy wrapper and an intact dry wooden ice cream spoon. I wedged the flat wooden spoon horizontally into a mortar seam to serve as a raised dry bench off the cold stone. Angling the stiff foil wrapper across the gap above, I sealed off the cross-breeze completely. Boots set firm. Back pressed against the cold iron. Watching the avenue.