Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Early Morning Daydream

Arriving at Penn Station after a lovely train ride to Manhattan. I grab my vintage pink suitcase and look around to see if I see your face.  Not seeing any recognizable smiles, I head upstairs and out the doors, taking care not to use the revolving door because they scare me.  I set down my suitcase and sit on it to people watch and do my best Audrey Hepburn impression.

Finally, I see you rushing through the crowds of slow moving tourists and fast-moving city-dwellers.  You reach me and take my hand and give me a huge hug as you apologize for being late. We hail a cab that takes me, you, and my suitcase to Harlem.  The streets are awfully wide and I try not to look very small town and I look at all the buildings rush by.  I tell you they remind me of the fronts of the buildings I recognize from the Cosby Show.  You laugh and tell me I watch too much TV.

We reach your apartment and you take my suitcase to the back room.  I go to the bathroom to freshen up, which means I wash my hands and face, reapply my lip gloss and perfume, and shuzsh my hair.  
When I emerge from the bathroom you take my hand and give me another big hug.  You ask if I’m hungry and I look at you crazily because you know very well that I am always hungry.  We grasp hands and walk together down to the street. We go about five blocks as we talk about whats new and my train ride and about your morning and afternoon.  We reach a restaurant that you promise has delicious food. We sit down, order and short time after begin to eat.  I am relieved that you were right. You know how bad food makes me angry.

We finish our food, pay the check and go back out onto the street. By this time it is dark.  Strolling through the city you suggest we go to one of your favorite bars.  It is a dive bar with good strong drinks and a very “urban” atmosphere.  I chuckle at your use of the word “urban”.

We get to the bar and sit down on deceptively comfy barstools. I order a Jack Honey neat, and you order some beer I’ve never heard of.  We begin to drink and talk.  We tell stories about each of our worlds, some funny and some tragic. This talking is easy, which scares me and delights me all at the same time.  I want to know everything about you…

Before we know it, last call is called.  We head back out and walk back to your apartment, laughing and talking and still holding hands.  

No comments:

Post a Comment