Home is where the power outlet is.

"Here it is!" -My friend, about a bell she got me for my bike (before the entire city of New York started to hate me).

 This is not the natural habitat of an octopus.

Spiderman! (With his mother).

"the point i'm at"

Who sits

In those weird pedestrian medians

Where they put tables and chairs

Between busy two-way avenues

In New York City?

Tourists eating cupcakes.

Shoe-less old Asian women

Resting their feet 

Between shifts of collecting used plastic bottles.

An intern 

At a fashion magazine

Sipping something green 

And frozen

From a Starbucks bucket.

A tween with a skateboard.

An old man wearing a young man's hat.

A homeless-looking NYU student

Noodling Udon

(From home).

No couples:

But, an abandoned left boot.

There's not much

Overt community,

Especially when it's about to rain.

But I'm tired of sitting in coffee shops.

And I don't have anywhere to be for two hours.

And I already called my mother.

And I'm at least a little uneasy.

And I can't (for the life of me)

Think of a place in this city

To get a good

Reasonably priced

Salad.

And if there is a god,

She 

(why not she)

Must be busy elsewhere

For this place is neither

Punishment

Nor paradise--

Even as it starts to drizzle.

--

5:30 dinner means 8:00 second dinner.  Holler!