of brother with wife and his girls in tow, moving back to mexico, please, God, don't let it be so...
of walking with A down central park west, past the tap dancing fools and cramped health food store, we stopped for miso soup and apple betty rolls. we talked about our dancing, we talked about her henna orange hair...
of walking past the Pierre into that big apple park, along the seal pool, where attitude and silliness swim around and look at us fools. to my favorite rock, past the rat crosswalk and half naked lovers under obvious blankets, condom wrappers swirl underneath their heels with the bit of wind that stirs them to go home...
through the cloud of reefer and hacky sac college guys, with goatees and army pants, no shirt, and six packs...radio blaring WLIR...
into my skin when we're off to radiocity, weed paranoia, i can't feel my legs...sneaking in a bottle to the 57th st playhouse, to watch stop making sense, a good buzz, a big coat, and tina kicking some serious butt.
teeter-tottering in way too high heels, off to roseland for the big man, Iman sitting in the balcony...
i miss the college girl, bag full of dance clothes and snicker bars...