Classic NYC Story

… because I walked in the house at about 7am when my mother was getting ready to walk out of it.

“So you decided to come home, huh?”

…He was so small. It amazes me sometimes that kids are so small. And he had little tiny hands. And a little tiny voice (which he used frequently and with great vigor). And when he walked, he took little tiny steps. It was hard to take him seriously when he was angry. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about him now. I’m not his nanny anymore…

My friend from Boston and I have been friends forever. We’ve been friends since the Rock of Ages was a pebble. We’ve been friends since before sliced bread was the next “best thing.” We met round about the same time dirt was invented.

…he heard me. I know he heard me. I swear to God… and not just because it’s an accompanist’s job to listen. We’ve done this song before, many, many times. We’ve made lot’s of music. He followed me and led me. He pushed me and pulled me, entered me and made love to me and I made love to him…

It was just some minutes ago that that song played on my internet radio, and I got so literally sick and angry that I got up and walked away from the computer. The thought of just turning off or turning down the radio occurred to me, but I had to let it play. Why? I don’t fucking know.

I didn’t ask him why he was so late and so tired. I didn’t ask when was the last time he got a haircut. I didn’t ask why he looked so out of shape or why his new girlfriend wasn’t taking better care of him. I didn’t care. I just told him what key to play in.

A poem about my friend in Harlem

I had some perfume but did not need it; I already reeked of brightness. There were little tiny magnets pouring out of my pores. I’m so ready…

I used the word “mess” on purpose, though I don’t think it’s a mess (I used to, but the right products can work miracles); if I were to leave New York, my hair would make me a virtual outcast. My professor told me once that New York is unique that way. “You could have a bird’s nest on your head. Cats would be like ‘nice bird’s nest.’”

My God, is everything the same in this city? Houses, duplexes, brownstones, projects, black people, white people, Asian people, snobs, hustlers, workers, hookers, housewives, rich people, poor people, angry people, indifferent people, church people, heathens, muslims, buddhists, vendors, teachers, college girls, old men, botox-injected porn stars, carpenters, gas stations, chinese restaurants…