I am sitting on the balcony for the first time in four days. I was in Boston with Marisa visiting some old friends and relearning old habits, drinking and laughing mostly. Being on the balcony was all I could think about on the long silent bus ride home. I am there right now. I poured myself a large Harpoon IPA (after a visit to the brewery I am now a life long fan) and am listening to a combination of crickets and the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. An air conditioner kicks in even though it’s in the low sixties and the girl across the street is stomping around her apartment naked again. She has the blinds mostly closed, not enough for me not to see though.
Planes blink overhead into LaGuardia and the recycle trolls scour the trash cans looking for treasure. It is cold for the first time since spring. Cars tumble down the street, strangers sail by with their cellphone headlights and the wind chime is ready to dance free and elope with the wind. It was nice to leave and nice to return.
All cities are the same, all places are the same but their songs are different.