To the Editor:

You want to know what stinks. People say I do. Sometimes I do. So do people. So do things. Here are some of the things.

The dotted line down the middle of Brook Street. It is painted in the middle of the street, which sounds right until you notice that one side is parking and the other isn't, so the middle of the street is not the middle of anything. I would know. Brook Street is where you find us.

The building going up on Brook Street for the economists. Another turret, another shadow, laid across the people who already live there. That stinks.

The motorcycles. Ripping, every night, out of tailpipes built to rip. The city has said it will prioritize noise. That stinks too, in a different way.

The crosswalks. Somebody decided the parking should run right up to the paint, so the driver can't see the pedestrian and the pedestrian has to lean out past a parked car to see the driver. Everybody is looking around something. That stinks.

The jobs. Where are they? The most productive people you will ever meet can't get paid for work here. That stinks.

The old buildings. One came down on Waterman. There are more to come. That stinks.

The grocery store. The people who work there are surrounded by food and have a hard time paying for it. The wages aren't great. Neither are the benefits. They worry about whether they'll have the job next month. They are treated as if everyone is trying to get on the rescue boat and they're the ones who are out. They check out people with doctorates and the newest phones, and they don't have either. That stinks.

Me, I stamp my feet before I do anything. I give you the whole length of a bad decision to change your mind. Nobody else on this list gives you that much notice.

— A Skunk, Brook Street