Free Range

In Brooklyn, the apartment is different. The ceiling is twice as high, uncluttered, the walls are white. So white. The sounds are more trucks, fewer sirens, the view from the windows never ends.

I spend an entire day here, to open a door. I drink their superior coffee and enjoy every sip. The pretty things. The gracious welcome. I turn up the music and sing until my lungs smile. How much a little space does for the limbs. They stretch, relax. The soul follows.

The other day, we kept each other company from Union Square; we were going basically the same direction, anyways. I looked south down 5th avenue, the arch on Washington Square beginning to glitter, as the streets grew darker and the sky put the sun to bed. I said, It's just that it's such a beautiful city. I never cease to be blown away. He agreed. And even though our worlds are so different, our New Yorks not the same town, really, I do not doubt we can both love it, all the same.