washington heights smells
like san juan
pizza carnes bad spanish home
three people ask me for directions
my marker
proof of home
my pink floyd t-shirt
starts conversations
guys in park, admirable
construction worker
no idea what to write
re: sixties
and hair in the park
"too much memory"
another antigone
in fringe festival
fringe all week
might not see broadway
tonight: necrophiliac musical
forget the lion king
no need to do anything
but mortality reminders
and how fast it all goes
reading david carr
night of the gun
addictions
the subway ride
seems like a hundred
latino day campers
like being in the middle
of a popcorn popper
the whole town strikes me again
safer than a padded playpen
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