Highway workers lay down the tar in June's wrathful humid heat, their sun-dried lips and throats quenched by lukewarm lemon ice tea, the vapor from the asphalt rose, and glinted like a mirage, one laborer daydreams under the red-rimmed sun, his sweat streaming, a salty river running into his work-boots, his day grinds on as well dressed business executives impatiently speed by in expensive air conditioned cars. That cooler night, his evening meal untouched, as he sleeps in his sweaty work-clothes in his worn easy chair, home team N.Y.