"Cooling myself with a popiscle stick fan...playing chew-the-peg...'smoking' punk...digging up the grass between the front-walk bricks...Mr Freilich's long-handled grocery grippers, allowing him to reach to the highest shelf and pull down a box of ceral...purple ribbons on a door, meaning someone had died in that house...pouring Morton salt on the flat summer slags that left silver trails across the bricks...Quaker Oats...bathtub-shaped Hudson cars...the big truckspraying everything, including me, with mosquito poison...cat's-eye marbles in the dirt...Bono's fruit and vegtable bus...on a winter morning, a slow white plug of cream pushing up the cap of the milk bottle on our front step...the bread man...the rag man...the rag man's horse, itself slow and drooping as a sack of rags, as if every clop upon the street would be its last...the ragman's mournful warbling bleat: 'Raaaaaaags!' ...the sad, slow syncopation passing George, heading for Kohn, Noble, Buttonwood, Westward...'Raaaaaaags!' clop-clop, 'Raaaaaaags!' clop-clop...." (p.45)
Based upon the context clues, the word "syncopation" means variety of rhythms.