So, you go out, and it works. Everyone's so foxy that their foxiness conducts the train. Couples are lying on each other and bending around backwards to stroke hair they can't see. The train stops, the circuit breaks and you help a woman in a green poncho carry her child up the stairs at Bedford Avenue. The child blows you a kiss and then you walk 57 blocks to a party where one guy tells you he's lactating and another tells you he has good hooker karma and, this being New York, the guys are fifteen seconds behind the girls and, this being the new weather, it's hot 'n' humid enough in May to keep you off your toes but not yet so hot you're unconscious and then it 's all over because the vinho verde runs out and you say, damn, that's good, but compared to what?
Large, oversized thank yous to Michael, Alissa, Kenny, Elizabeth, Jane and Ange.Posted by Sasha at May 22, 2004 05:25 PM | TrackBack