Sitting on my six by three and half foot bed. The paisley sheets roll themselves across the brown carpeted floor.

And I am here.

That means I can't be there
Though my tongue cannot forget the tastes of the salty Mediterranean or the full bodied red wine of san nicola passing over the curves of my tongue.
Nas Is Like comes through the speakers on the Lower East Side and bounces off the chests of young men as they stand against the chain link fence with their new era hats and their hands in their pockets. Eyes watching. A train passes overhead.

Eating popcorn in the dark, her knee touches mine. An energy unquantifiable comes to me in that coarse red seat.