Coffee and Cheesesticks

"Hey somebody drew something on your face. What's it supposed to be?"
"Looks like John Kerry."
"No no, it's a vagina."
"It is? I thought . . . Wait. Yup. Yeah you're right. Definitely a vagina."

In an over glorified prime time soap opera certain events play out in real time. The plasticities of life become the currency of the day, wallets are opened to advertising spots and minds are closed to the gravestones underfoot. The players stay inside their houses and plot against each other through hidden channels, using code words and phrases like THE BABY IS IN THE CRADLE and THE BIRD WILL LIFT OFF AT MIDNIGHT. The very children of this shining neighbourhood are vagabonds lost in their own hometown, sooner or later most of which will be due to become the players themselves, hiding in basements and taking part in clandestine conversations about babies and birds.

At 3am the group graces the local greasy spoon with their presence, arguing over the seating arrangements and what foods best accompany strawberry jam. Over coffee and cheesesticks they put up their gallant front, a decoy ploy, for they know they are being watched. The cutlery arrives late with a hidden message and things appear normal and under control. At least to those who are watching.