Something New at York

Nothing New at York as I rode the train home everyday in the first year I lived here; here in the greatest of great places. Nothing New at York as I'd ride the train into and out of the station that no one seemed to get on or off at. Nothing New at York, always assuming suspecting that those few people I never saw get off or on were, special. Nothing New at York... I somehow always knew someday, there'd be, something...

I hesitate this, pause it, until I remember that it was the wind rustling the pages of this open book that alerted her to me. It was these sappy splatters that made her know me and say hello. There is no public or private today, the day after the most important bridge walk I have ever walked. A walk from there to here; a walk in the howling wind and cacophony of a city closing down it's day and starting it's most wonderful evening. Wash your hands and spray on some pretty perfume; Sappy, happily sappy... a lifetime on a windy bench, just inside my blessed Brooklyn, two green chairs pulled closer than a 1000 years of roman bathouse history and two bottles of bunches of grapes... the promise of peaches. Snap shots more clear than the fastest paper could ever hold; little stones in plastic boxes, a stone on the shore, asked for and handed me by a skilled stoner, ancient tools that only special hands can know. My head spins from glimpse to glimpse, two chairs, a sip, a rest from the conversation for a breath, for smoke, a stare and then more kind words, all the while just simply completely utterly, wonderfully, comfortable... Next, Peaches.

Something New at York. I'll no longer ride looking for the people, who I know, who are special, and who are not there. I walk down the pillared isles of this empty place, spinning around half to dance, half to see if I've been followed. A blast of shiny steel, the sound and the rush familiar to every morning on this most surprisingly familiar of mornings. Sitting in the sunshine on the shore beside this greatest of great places, dawn... There is something I've always known, Something New at York, me thinking of nothing but you.

yo, leave home the book of rules!