A New York joke

"New York is ugly and lousy anyway."

Marx would have thought so too- just too much traffic, cologne and suits I couldn't afford to buy for mum's funeral. Lol.

I trip. The soda can mocks me too.

I sit at the bus stop. At least, that one doesn't discriminate. Looking left, I see frowns, obviously fake smiles on these faces, and I return to glance at my left.

This can't be what bad breath smells like. This is foul.

"Oh!" I say aloud by mistake as I look at the homeless guy who asks to sit next to me.

"I'm supposed to look like New York, but you don't look like Paris either. Bad day?" He asked.

"Yeah, ugly day."

"Think you'll take two cents from this homeless man?" He asked with a lean smile.

I laughed. Couldn't resist the urge.

"You know what 'ugly' spelt backwards is?" He asks.

"Uhmmm, no" I reply as I try to make sense of it.

"Surprised you took me seriously enough to think about it. You see, ugly is not pretty, but it doesn't mean it's devoid of meaning."

"Whoa." He was impressive.