The Short Bus

At 6:00 in the morning the yelling on the short bus started, Hey man…you better go by 88th Street and pick up those guys over there ’cause you forgot ’bout them the other day and man was they pissed at you, loudly the PR pointed out the bus driver’s mistake as whoops and hollers from […]

42nd and 8th

She sat naked behind plated glass….phone in hand….making forecasts and promises……she pretended…..I pretended…. Couldn’t resist…… a vagabond…..where was Mecca….?…….. ┬ánot in Chicago…..nor Cleveland….. D.C…… St. Louis….. never found until the red screen rose at 42nd and 8th….revealing what……revealing her…..just like a hundred other times…. Feeling like Harry Dean Stanton in Paris, Texas, “I knew these […]

Of Course I Am

I’m half Native American, said the blonde…..blue eyed…..mutton chop wearing youngster, and….I am also half Irish, he continued…..which is really strange if you think about it due to the fables….misnomers…..stereotypes….. about the two races, he pulled out a bag of organic carrots…….and….he pulled off his sweater….. On one half alcohol is terrible for me…it ruined […]

One In A Billion

Outside the deli in Brooklyn the line stretched for blocks…. maybe a mile….. . Jews….. Puerto Ricans….. Mexicans….. Dominicans….. Dagos…..blacks…..white suburban house wives texting and taking selfies to mark the auspicious event….. Micks….. Greek diner owners….. and Indian cabbies talking over all of ’em as if they were at a stand on Shouting Street selling […]

Chinese Luck

Hip-hop beats….black youth rapping about some cellphone romance…egg foo young with a sauce; where’s the gravy? it’s egg foo fucking young ;don’t make it something it’s not…. All this Chinese yelling over god knows, god doesn’t care; a tribesman can’t decide between lo chow mein, or Singapore Sling……more yelling from the kitchen…. You get no […]

Ghosts, Spirits, Souls.

He sat sleeping in a hard wooden chair across the table….warned of falling into dreams….a library is no place for slumber… A large window on the second floor showed a good portion of the Schwratzman Library across 5th Avenue….old ghosts had dwelled within it’s aisles for years… new spirits need not apply…. Now….here in this […]

Pure

It is not being afraid to cry out in a library, a park bench, a church pew….. With songs playing, notes hit, chords struck….setting off feelings from long ago….. ten years ago…..ten days ago…. the last few seconds…..allowing all that is human to be seen….. In being alone there is solace, a tranquility never experienced […]