Squandered Squandering my opportunity to be anonymous by sitting in the middle of
Tompkins Square Park to make an impression.
Shaky fingers getting reacquainted
with clicking and spelling, channeling Brene Brown
if you show up, you get
to write the ending to your story.
Hoping that Anne Lamott isn't the next
person to type this.
or maybe hoping that she is.
The keys stick and I think, Damn, this is the mark I'll make in my favorite
beautiful, hideous city as someone plays the Beatles on the guitar just a
few feet away.
Jack hammers accompany him.
Children squeal happy summer
vacation squeals and it's a little bit of heaven in purgatory.
Soon I will get back on the train and return to my favorite man
and the children we raise, (raise, the receptionist at our offfice that can't seem
to keep our schedules straight.
But life is good.
Just had to come feed the artist to remember.