Hiding in the Lion's Mouth

Early in the evening, when sunlight is still warm, I speed down the west side on a rickety old bike, mingling with unclear commuters and cooped up city dwellers, and tumble off on an unassuming west village street where the furniture has moved outdoors. We live on this curb now, New York reclaims its old ways, shrugs off that which no longer suits it, I dare you to question its beating heart, I dare you to question mine.

A birthday comes and goes, can you believe I've lived here all this time and rent was $725 then, what a world. The soothing voice with the rolling Rs says she'll stay a little longer than planned, you revel in the gift and daren't look it in the eye. New York taketh away, but oh when it gives, how sweet it does it. We ran out of wine, but we cemented a fact: we are in this, for better or for worse. Here is the permanence you spent a life searching for and just as long trying to avoid. Here is the pill that wasn't unavoidable so much as persistent. The secret to loving me is just do it, I am no more an enigma than any other, if you want the world just join it, we have the rest of our lives left to live.

I'll make room for you,
if you'll take it.