when you
move
to manhattan
you meet
a lot
of people (mainly women)
who come
from “means”.
they hang out
in the marble
lobbies
of
boutique hotels
and drink
fancy
cocktails
and talk a lot
of shit.
i met
a girl
on the job
who worked
at a “non-profit”
where basically
you asked your parents not to give
you
any christmas gifts. instead,
you
asked them to donate
the gift money to the
“non-profit”
for just the
one day, of that
one year.
our first date (our only date)
went fine.
she played
the ukulele
i played the guitar
we sang
taylor swift
songs
and looked
at the domino sugar factory
and when i said
“let’s go to the water front”
she said,
“my apartment
has a better view”
later,
i sat
with
a cigarette
on her brooklyn
roof top
patio
overlooking
all of
downtown manhattan
and
i
thought about
how nice life was
to those
who could
forfeit their christmas money
and still
pay rent
on an apartment
with a
roof top patio
that
overlooked
all
of
downtown manhattan
eventually i had to leave
and i ate
for
the first time that
day
the one
piece
of
dollar pizza
i could scum
up enough
change
to buy
and
all around me
were
one
legged bums
and
mexican families
with 30 kids
and the short black man
with no teeth
who sang
the lollipop gang
song
for
some loot
and
i knew i’d never be her hero
and it
wasn’t even winter,
every puddle
i stomped
through
broke apart,
but eventually
when
the ripples
came back together
it
was
still me
i
was
staring at.
she
may have been
the savior
of
the starved,
but the next morning
i
had
a text message
that said,
“you’re really nice, but
i can’t
date
a
bellman.
it just
wouldn’t
look
right”.
it was
another
night
i abandoned
my dog
for
a woman
that i’d never
get back