who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open full of steamheat and opium,
This stanza really sticks with me for some reason and I’m trying to put my finger on why as well as how...The vivid imagery of this scene gives me a feeling of such relief. The relief of being cold, tired, and hurting then being invited into some warm shelter offering you a numbing agent. This 0-100 experience of going from miserable to hazy relief is utterly visceral to me, and rather universal when lumped into the motif of relief.

