By: Darrah de jour I roam the city days and nights. Take the F-train all the way out to the public library, where across the street the slippery muted steps of the church whisper my secrets; back when faith endured me, I sat atop them, perched, ready for an omen. My footfalls are leaving a black trail in the pristine snow, but by tomorrow, no one will notice. The ice will harden into a Van…