Creative Writing: The Beats

By the time John left for work last night, the area was relatively quiet but even so, garbage can fires, bricks tumbling out from the walls of antiquated brownstones onto the sidewalks and an overabundance of trash everywhere remained. He avoided piles of bricks and stepped on clothes strewn across the pavement as he kept moving toward the subway. As he put a foot forward, a rat the size of a fully-grown Calico cat ran across the sidewalk into the street and stopped near an open suitcase leaning against one of those meshed city trash bins. Further down the street, John saw a single red stiletto lying on its side. From that point onward, he checked all points before proceeding.
John stopped short of a man in a trench coat with a fedora standing

His lips were covered in pink lip-gloss, he was wearing an AC/DC t-shirt, a short skort, and wedge sneakers. The other, a slim, black male wearing a NY cap, Nike t-shirt, and skinny jeans. The second one mumbled incoherently while listening to music on his Beats headphones. As time went on, he began to a tick-tock—robotically turning his shoulder and arms in a freakish manner that only someone who is double jointed can do while his lower body remained as stagnant as a statue.
Not long after the last person got on, John began to jerk his leg and hum one of those dumb songs he and the men from his Marine unit came up with when they had far too much time on their hands.
“The next stop is Fulton Street,” came over the intercom. He got off as soon as the door open, looked both ways and then went through the turnstile and jogged up the stairs. Lower Manhattan was nearly empty. Usually, around this time, there were plenty of people to go around but not today. Only a few people were in Mc Donald’s sitting by the window devouring burgers and whatnot. John crossed the street, tugged on the employee entrance door and climbed the steep stairs to the 2nd

A vagrant sat in the middle of the car, spoon in one hand with a lighter below it. The car reeked of burnt plastic and permanent marker. John sighed, went around him and went to the next car. In that one, for all intense purposes, normal commuters traveling alone or as a couple tensed up. Their eyes, wild and widening, and they stiffened the moment he entered the car. He stood there, arms folded guarding the door. Only then did the other passengers take their eyes off