I fall a sleep again, and dream of a naked woman dancing in the rain…
I’ve come around from Ghana, through Senegal, all the way to Brooklyn.
I rode in the back of the car all the way out of this country and into the next, anticipating the glory and dizzy romance of the sport.
Nat, the fifth, was a hilarious man
who warned against having too much fun.
“If you have a bad trip, you need some ‘anchor food’. Simple food. Something to bring you to the real world. Breakfast sandwiches and bad-trip donuts.”
This happened one night I could not sleep, I squeezed and squeezed our stupid cat.
Old New York had been built around it with the precise craftsmanship of Italian set builders.
