Frenetically talking up lost time at 60 miles an hour, as though no time had passed, or no geography, and as though spending time together in a yellow cab were commonplace. But then there it was, around the bend, the Manhattan skyline towering in the windshield and presenting itself as if for the first time. She paused, she stared, and I laughed at the glitter in her eyes.
By the time we emerged from the Midtown tunnel, my eyes saw the City as brand new, too. Boring, boorish 34th street suddenly a giggle, rainy Chelsea gleaming in the late night lights. I stared out the window as our conversation began to drift. There was too much to say anyways. What would become of this mad adventure, and I can't believe I am really here now.
But once I had dropped her off at the landmark hotel and began trudging the drizzly streets home, my City returned to me. This place that is not new. This place that is not unknown.
This place that is home.
Why do we still live in this repulsive town
all our friends are in New York.
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åh. om du bara visste hur jag längtar efter dig. och commonplace samtal i yellow cabs. och nattljus som avspeglas i regnvåta gator. längtar så jävla mycket. värken i bröstet. åh. vi måste iallafall se till att luncha snart baby. asap.
ReplyDeleteåh.
ReplyDeletelunch först. then we take manhattan. när kommer du och hälsar på?
(åh.)