There were city days when the sky sent down light so clear everyone on the street was caught in a halo. Crazy people looked normal. Pick any odd time of day: noon, two o’clock, three-o-five. You could walk a little early to your shrink’s office, feeling things could be done. A light jacket was all you needed, no coat. A dime and a token in your pocket to rub. Faith seemed smart, and good love possible. You were completely dazed and stupid, but for four or five blocks you believed in wisdom, some sap running through you, yours.