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About New York City

So. This one time. Met a gal. Called herself Ruby. Real name? Who knows. Prolly not. She’s workin’ corners. Downtown. Smokin’ cheap cigs. Eyes like. She’s seen ghosts. Told me. She got robbed. Twice. Last month. No kiddin’. Pissed me off. These lowlifes. Preyin’ on her. “There’s no more time.” She says. Quotin’ Polanski’s film. Like it’s her life. And damn. It kinda is. Blew my mind. How she connected. That shit.

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Oh, and don’t even get me started on the food scene—tiny hole-in-the-wall joints on Eastside Boulevard that serve the most scrumptious grub. My fave is a greasy spoon called “Spiffy’s Eats.” It’s got this pretentious mural of a dancing robot—WALL-E style!—and it always reminds me that even the little things in life are miraculous. Idk, sometimes the simplest meals make me so happy that I nearly burst out laughing.

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