He smelled like cheap cigarettes. He angled too close to my personal space. A screw head. For sure. A younger, tag-along brother with a cell phone blasting Italian TV tunes. But they weren’t Italian. Neighbors most likely. He immediately gets his line tangled with the locals, mostly Asian and Latino men who are here everyday. A screw head. For sure. Then I see the electronic ankle bracelet. My theory is confirmed. The fringes of summer bring out the fringes of society, feeling that pull of warmth, water and the filter through which most of us once viewed the power of this season. Anything was possible because we were free to do and to be.