One or two nights here doesn’t count the same way my hundreds do. You told me you jumped the tracks after too many beers. More proof you were just a visitor. No one does that here, not unless they’re trying to kill themselves. Did I tell you my oldest friend is pregnant? She called me a few weeks ago. Four months already she says. Does that mean two more trips to California before Christmas? I still miss it. But the city feels good this time. The bitter cold and the soreness in my feet. My boots don’t keep the water and snow away but I don’t mind. It felt nice to get caught in the storm on Tuesday. That was the night we ran into the bartender from 169. He tried to guess our ages and our makes. A game built like a trap. Something about my face appearing younger than my brain. He asked me to hold his joint. Seemed a bit forced. Something about keeping it warm or not enough pockets. I don’t remember the excuse. He’s just twenty one and already making more than the rest of us. He lives above his bar and pays the rent in wads of cash. Right on the edge of Chinatown. He says his mother’s never leaving Queens. That’s why he’s stayed put for so long. He thinks there’s still time for all of that though I’m not sure. Perhaps it’s best to not know what you’re missing.
