Seventy hours

Thompson Street, NYC, October 2014.

Thompson Street, NYC, October 2014.

Rain, humid, on West 4th Street,
Before house wine at The White Horse.
‘This restaurant has lost something’.
Second winds, third coffees
And yes sir, that’s my Babbo;
Sunlight on the reservoir
Then bagels in a cafe on the Lower East Side (‘the secret’s in the water’).
Hailing taxis, unsuccessful, on street corners.
Crosswalks, car horns, subway screeching.  Always more coffee.
And ‘if you can make it here’…

Under all the low engine hum of the city, driving forward, on.

_____

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