It is raining in Philadelphia and the streets are shiny flashy red reflectors of disquieting chirping ambulances speeding in full emergency response amid canyons of solemn glass towers of stone tonight. Their flashing illuminations heralding one by one missions to gather the drug overdosed, gun-shot, beat-to-shit and heart-attacking populous. Destinations 911 whizzing past free ranging theater goers mulling underneath swirling lighted marquees. Three-hundred-dollar ticket holders oblivious to sidewalks hardened by the cities sitting, standing, leaning, un insured invisibles fielding carboard signs for food fare, loose change and just some acknowledgment. The guilty and the innocent all brothers in arms in a war without winners. All frozen in time until the front doors open and the stretchers unfold. All carrying bonified scripts of some kind or another for pains that never go away. All in line for drugs that kill more than they remedy. A final outcome long ago determined solely by what one can pay and the milligrams dispensed.  It is raining in Philadelphia and the streets are shiny and grey. A tenement window shade goes down shaky and slow as the rush of the fix slips away. Heroes and superman playing on a black and white television while little children dream in color of invisible Wakanda worlds so far away. There is no magical messiah to wash all the sorrow away.  A world ruled by profit and loss; where knocks at the door always mean someone is going away. It is raining in Philadelphia and a cold wind blows strong tonight spreading across the land in every direction. He walked on water but did not get wet. He fed all that hungered with what he had on hand. Talked truth to power and got what he did; hanging for eternity and he has not found his way down yet.