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.