I'm hoping that God sends me
the keys to a luxury condo in the meat packing district so I can ride the iron horse like the days of old and climb the stairs to the 79th floor and pick up where we left off but I know you can't go home again even though technically it wasn't
my place but none of that matters any more in the new and crazy world where I now reside as long as I have my perch on the 25th floor near the Center of the Universe and my five years of exile exist only as a pleasant memory of dinners at Anji's and music in the park on Independence Day plus a few other things but not when I went to see the doctor and the birds and the bees or the two Harleys that the two jerks crashed in the night so I finally was able to get some sleep none of that but the dinners at Anji's for sure.
