My dog Keno and I prance down 119th street between 5th and Lenox side by side. Together, we decide to walk around the large boxed block. “Hey Keno you wanna go for a walk around the block this time?” Keno just stares at me. “Okay, I guess so huh?” Before we left, I turned around to stare at the large sign stating P.I.M.S (the Paul Institute for Mainstream Services) on our private house. I look up and down the street and let my mind and eyes devour the brownstones.
We keep walking until we get to the corner of 119th street and 5th ave where we see one of the offices for P.I.M.S. Inside is my grandmother and some teachers talking excitedly about the new supplies they got from the Teachers College Bookstore. Unfortunately, we stare through the window incapable of hearing what it is that they have to say. Yet, their conversation’s topic is implied by their movements.
We keep walking to the corner of 120th and 5th where we stop to sniff the sweet smell of African food from the restaurant. I look down at Keno to see his small pinkish brownish nose twitching, as his dark brown eyes stare longingly into the store. While standing there, we stare paralyzed looking at all of the African cab drivers pushing to make their way in and get a little bit of food from their home country.
We walk all the way around the block, and don’t stop to observe 120th street between 5th and Lenox or any of the stores between 119th and 120th on Lenox avenue. When we get back on my block I hear “get that prissy dog away from my building.” Yet, it wasn’t exactly worded that way. There was a curse thrown in every chance she got. But, Keno and I just keep walking, because we are simply used to that old drunken lady.
Finally we stop back at home away from all the ruckus of 119th street.