At Home With the Homeless in NYC

Vagrants sleep in New York City’s Penn Station

I don’t know if he was one of the regular Penn Station homeless contingent or just a mentally imbalanced indigent, escaping the New York City winter cold for a few hours. He grabbed my jacket sleeve, punched me in the arm, and screamed that I had stolen his motherfucking job, motherfucker.

I shook him off and went to the back of the line at Central Market to buy lunch. He ambled down the corridor. A minute…



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Jeffrey Cohen

Longtime writer and crank. Articles come from more than 30 years in journalism and corporate communications. Follow my podcast at