The trash bags have been picked up. The sidewalk still looks as if somebody tried to fry a dinosaur egg on it. The little dispensers for Village voice and other free publications have huddled together closer to the entrance to the 1 and 9 train. The women from the Budweiser-advertising hold their bottles and laugh at the pigeons who are now there by the dozens collecting what was too small for the truck to pick up. Soon somebody will come out and wash the sidewalk as if it were the skin of a circus elephant.