Hot Sars in the city

I usually take Meridian Ave home from work on my trusty Roadmaster bicycle, but today I had to make a stop in a shop  and ended up finding an alleyway shortcut between Washington and Collins. I must say, there is not much worse on the nares than the smell of hot garbage akin to Jeffrey's designer clothes. ugh. A mixture of 80 degree fermenting banana peels, pizza, and bloody boob job gauze. Miami beach is the city of paradox. The beauty of the ocean cancels out the grime of the populace. Most everyone is on vacation, and everything is priced as such except cuban goods. On that note, I am off to spend my hard earned autistic dollars riding the ocean route to the gym to ride a stationary bike. Impala holla