Tall, too thin, hair like smoke and string, he's dressed not odd enough to turn folks off. She waits, Penn Station, friends will bring their car, now stuck in traffic. When a cop

strolls past, the con man freezes, doesn't talk
to women, only businessmen. She sees
him ask, wallets open, coins, often
bills change hands. He might have AIDS? - seems

polite - perhaps his mother taught him "please" and "thanks." She estimates his daily take -a buck per hit, 15 per hour, no tax. Jeez. For years she got up, dressed, commuted, hated

work. She hands him five - "Been watching you." "Naughty girl - to spy on what I do."