Kings Don't Mean A Thing

Kings Don't Mean A ThingFlashback, three months. A man parks his car on 21st Street near the Dorchester and waddles toward Spruce—woozy, been drinking since noon. He is humming Brazil. It is always Brazil. Not the Aurora Miranda Brazil but the Ritchie Brothers'. " 'We stood beneath an amber mo-o-on.' "As usual near midnight, the activity has just begun on this Philadelphia street. The man warily surveys the new autumn crop. Tank tops of summer have been replaced with checkered shirts a...