The Walk Home

2 blocks east.

13 blocks north.

union square. whole foods. best buy. that statue in the middle i don't know who it's of. someone made a store just for me, food emporium, food emporium. barnes and noble. sometime's i'd dip around and walk a loop around gramercy park.

if it was REALLY late, maybe i'd stop by that mcdonald's for a bite. or grab a slice at bravo pizza.

we lived in a fairy tale, in this small sphere of this island of this city of this state of this country of this planet. this sphere that had a cycle of change before it was gone.

and every time i'd walk, i'd feel every step so vividly, visualize every store front, smell every rain soaked pavement, listen to every lone taxi whistling through Park Avenue. it was because i'd ask myself the same question in different phrasing, different wording, different imagining.

Do you feel what I feel?


14 blocks north.

2 blocks east.

the coordinates had changed. but i was still going home.

hurriedly, to hide.  zooming past ippudo. past that dying strand bookstore. paragon sports. andy warhol statue. that small AMC.

i hurried so i wouldn't remember. i wouldn't take the time to absorb. but i did all the same, as the overcast drippy cold weather made the sprinting somewhat tolerable. my unfortunately cinematic life kept playing the scene as it was happening simultaneously, like a loop within a loop, burning the moment forever in my memory.

but it was okay.

i didn't believe in love.  anyway.