Sans-Coulottes at 13th and Olive

Somebody disposed of their blue jeans at 13th and Olive one day last week for unknown reasons. They were draped over a park bench on the corner. Later in the day, I saw a pair of Jordache designer jeans on a brick wall across from the city traffic court. Nearby, an old man was urinating on a small sapling near the curb as a relative watched. Behind me a man was shouting to himself in between humming the theme to the Flintstones. A few days later, on the cusp of a winter's first cold snap, I saw more abandoned clothing on the window sill of Christ Church Cathedral. Those who have next to nothing were apparently ridding themselves of the clothes on their backs, or, at least, lightening up their bindles as they trudged by invisible to nearly everyone they passed.