12:27 am Sunday morning waiting for the number 6 downtown. The uptown 4 speeds by on the express line and I realize I am living a surreal moment in New York. The greatest city in the world, Saturday night, and my evening includes tea and a poetry reading on Bowery, Xbox and Budweiser, caso dip and conversations about how hard it is dating in New York. This is my night. Uptown number 6 stops and people get off. Couples holding hands. Guys with their umbrellas. It must still be raining outside.
Finally the downtown number 6 arrives. I board the train and find a seat. She’s cute but not my Melanie. A legless man is making his way down the car on his fist with a coffee can of coins. Hand outs please. I wonder how he got down into the subway, and I wonder how he will leave.
My stop…Lafayette and Bleecker St. It’s raining. Crack! Thunder and lightening in February…how weird. Great the rain is coming down harder. Just my luck. “There goes my hair,” says a bridge and tunnel ho. Many more looking for shelter from the rain. What losers! Just walk in it; you won’t melt. And if you do, who cares.
A surreal night in New York City. The words sounded better in my head 30 minutes ago. Unfortunately for you, this is what you get.
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