Page 107

By Jack Joseph Smith

108 , Chapter VII : It was in the summer and I was walking through the Hill district of Pittsburgh; Brows were lined with yellow beads of sweat that went sweet in final moans behind falling doors, There was lots of noise and negro women sitting on white washed steps in front of Victorian shacks drinking their coffe black, Its steam rose and moved only slightly in the air, like still street papers caught in a silent breezes My suit felt light on my widely presented shoulders, and the sent of sweet and sour smell made me feel dizzy and yet concious of ny swishing presence, I was fancy in my step and I felt my hair blow just a little bit in the stiff airs Listen to the red and blue of the music fading with its menory through the edges of the brick street, I am the colorful mang Already the man of many stories, I say hi in the : market and smile at the responges I lmow the jukebox men, the gamblers, pimps I . ; hate, and whores I love, they kmow me too, The cop says hello, but can't remember i meg My dress changes, Noy you can't catch mes Someday, if I am a big bookie, I will only know the eyes and never watch the faces, The facess they dee og From i question to laughter they turn, and those men always have their hands in their ‘ pockets, I like the eyelash of the Jews It twitches, What a funny sight behind black i eyess But the black men like thens they say, £0 fuck yourself, nose to noses NEdtiner | hides behind the ever popular skin and both wear their pants highs Ite a cap to me, ; a hat to him, What the fuck is the difference? Corn beef or spare ribss it only | depends on the time of the days Give me the ribs hot at six o'clock, with plenty | of juce to burn me up for the evening, Later after whiskey, I'11 have corn beef and beerg And maybe a chick to laugh at, while she spills her mustard, I can see the heat waves rising out of that eagnecdud®S nar The hotter the betters I can feel my pumper churning, Center Avenue with all the pimple faced pimps and hoping children, white with teeth they would give gladly for a silver coinj Nothing worse i

Original Scan

Page 107

AI Interpretation

GPT

Summer in Pittsburgh's Hill District opens into a swaggering walk through black streets, jukebox trade, gamblers, pimps, whores, cops, food, and heat, as Michael imagines himself already a many-storied man.

The page is full of self-invention, with Michael dressing himself in movement, appetite, and urban fluency as if the district can ratify a new identity. Race, class, and style are watched with fascination rather than distance, and the whole street feels like a stage for becoming.

Claude

Chapter VII drops Michael into the Hill district of Pittsburgh at walking age: yellow beads of sweat on brows, negro women on white-washed steps drinking black coffee, the color of the market where he is already the colorful man.