No. 6 - A Naccarato Contracting van pulls up in front of Kos Kaffe.

Updated: Aug 25, 2019

July 31st, 2019

I sit on a bench in front of Kos Kaffe on a Wednesday afternoon. Fifth Avenue and Garfield Place. Across the street stands one of Housing Works' Thrift shops as well as Buttermilk Bakeshop, and between them LS Barbershop. Thunder rumbles, the diesel engine of a Triumph truck idles as it waits on the street before me. The sky threatens rain. A Naccarato Contracting Custom Renovations van pulls up in front of Kos Kaffe, waits for the light at Carroll Street and Fifth Avenue to turn green. Farrington ––– your complete energy company ––– a few moments later takes its place on the street –––– heating, oil, natural gas. The thunder continues yet still in this moment no rain, until the first few drops pitter and patter against the Kos Kaffe awning. A giant Greenport Harbor Brewing Company truck pulls up to the spot where the Cobble Hill bound B63 bus will drop people off and pick people up. Harbor Ale, Black Duck Porter, Seasonal Ales, a man with a beard in a neon green t-shirt and light green cargo shorts jumps out of the truck's passenger seat, walks the length of the truck, then lifts its back gate. The B63 bus pulls in and drops someone off and picks no one up then pulls away and the man climbs into the back of the Greenport Harbor truck, begins tossing kegs around; I hear them clinking together and rolling across the truck's bed. The rain's consistent but not heavy, steady. Three cyclists roll by heading north on Fifth Avenue. Two women in summer dresses, one denim the other khaki and both beneath umbrellas, one black the other light blue, stand nearby, waiting for the B63. The B63 arrives, consistent, steady like the rain, the women step aboard as a man with brown cargo shorts and a red helmet pushes and peddles by on a Citi Bike, north. The rain picks up as do the steps of the woman who walks a poodle through the rain then ducks into Kos Kaffe. Lightning. Rain falls on the paper that I write on and the ink from my pen moves this way and that across the page. More lightning. The hum of another diesel engine, idling, pausing, waiting for the light at Carroll Street to turn green.

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