Thursday

the blur that was my weekend

Manhattan. Town of extreme character. Patricia Field and Cafe Gitan. So unique. So tasty.
Cheap Mexican beer cans on unimpressed subway carts. Aggressive shorts and women with turquoise shoes. No time to think too much about Amy, the latest fight, the cats or even Tisha being put to sleep.
Do my best to make sure I'm not in the way. No need when I'm here.
Speed walk through dinosaur bones and sleep it off at Yankee Stadium in a pile of your own peanut shells. Dreamy night view of the George Washington Bridge. So tired, Mounamou. Too tired to even gather my own thoughts.
Never did make it to Union Square to see the rats but did see big Mama Bear and her two cubs run away from us in the woods. In Smokerise, with the deer and the gated community folk. Walking through the forest barefoot with Kevin and his air rifle after the pedicures in Astoria. (Actoria). Where Dave and I nearly cracked up under intense tickling. Where we did got lost.
A good shot apparently in the need of a moving target.
Speaking of snipers. Grilled in the Jacuzzi and again the next morning by Camille. Folding under intense questioning. Apparently no longer the smooth talker I once was. Tom remains optimistic about the economy and thinks people generally think too much.

Ain't that the truth.

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