Monday, March 2, 2009

we walked around new york, visiting old places that looked so boring a second time around.
they were fun those nights that started off just you and I, and ended up with half a dozen more, on a rooftop apartment, sunrise over manhattan, the stuff woody allen is made of. that manhattan charm. only in his movies its only two people, a beautiful woman and a funny looking man. i imagine those women were on coke and speed. their doctors prescribed the speed and their friends- the coke. i'll drink another beer. those moments conjure blank thoughts- do we split up? you're already sitting on his lap, maybe he'll take you to his Astoria apartment and i'll go with his friend. no. we take the bus back instead. barely concious of the long trek ahead. the daylight feels like a gentle hug and we manage our way uptown. 179th and broadway. buyers and sellers of the night hang around the station for the straggling B and T crowd, we are so grudgingly referred as. but we ignore them and think about the entourage of accents with whom we talked, danced, drank, smoked, fell on the floor in a youthful attempt to be stacked upon one another, laughing all the while...
my new york.

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