In 1976 I got an apartment on the fourth floor of a building on Thompson Street and Prince Street. Widows in black primarily occupied the 5 floor walk-up, and the apartment had three rooms. An entry-way with printed yellow tile opened into a main-room which had a shower on cinder-blocks, a refrigerator, a gas-stove, with an exposed brick-wall behind that had a hole punched through (where we stored our kitchen matches), an old double ceramic sink on legs, and a toilet in a closet, water-tank-with-pull-chain-above. Off the main-room were two bedrooms. I woke up, my first morning in the apartment, feeling as if someone was staring at me. And indeed as I opened my eyes, a might cock-roach stared me down eye-to-eye, both of us resting on the pillow.
