Coltrane blew Naima on a Parisian jazz station while a homeless Jew ate a sausage biscuit from Mickey D’s in Herald Square.
Its 63 degrees in December, NYPD TERRORIST TASK FORCE cops on corners, an immigrant seeks out comfort in hiding, and the mayor’s a Red Sox fan; strange times.
And here I sit….drinking rented coffee and completely at peace with all that is America.
The Christmas commerce, the coiffed fundamentalist telling his flock that Jehovah on high wants you to be rich, successful, and completely comfortable; no suffering required.
All just fits….every intricate part…the rich…the poor…the dreamers… the “losers,” the promises, the miscues…and jazz from a Paris station….who knew….go figure….
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