The car lingers at a storefront. From the car stares a man.

A woman in the store mends time with folding and hangers jabbing threads or allowing slippage where coat-shoulders spread beyond wiry limits, darkhaired. Another woman approaches and proffers money to a woman behind the counter, who, having been clotted, does not see in the midst of her mending a many-ringed hand holding green papers. Impatient, another woman smiles before a black thought.

A man in the car sees all this, windows permitting, mannequins properly aligned. Pince- nez on his nose.

A woman emerges from the store perky to the rush about her, dress-in-clutch, a bag looped at one arm akimbo, itemizing particulars and scheming. A man sees these things.

In the store a woman's eyes roll to the window, seeing between motionless figures a lingering car from which another figure stares. Six eyes meet in an inkling; two stray quickly and shudder. Shortly, a man drives away.

Shadows lengthen, one sun droops, the rubbish gathers to swirl. A woman considers alternatives.

To wait a man returns, his clocktime running to wait, to make undoings: to saw wholes into marks, to muse upon clocktime's extremity: to cancel and to hum and to finger.