There's a man walking down the side walk now making sure he avoids any cracks, a couple copper Abraham faces and Jeffersons in his pocket singing a tune. 

There's a man stepping on the sidewalks with fine precision. His coat hangs low, and his wallet holds no identity only a grocery store coupon. A collard shirt holds his neck from falling.

Balancing in boots that croack with each step he's tilting over every split between the lips of cement.