i don’t kiss in bars.



I don’t kiss in bars.
tonight was a good night. another busy day tomorrow keeps me on my toes and smiling.
badass chicks. one reads. tells me to read a book about men who like bitches.
this goes with Teddy Thompson singing last night about wanting what he didn’t have. One of my new friends leaned over and said, he wrote that when he was young.
I agree. It’s a sign of immaturity. But also, I can’t decide. a sigh or a smile.
the person I cared for is now over and can’t have me. It’s a weird position to acknowledge. but that’s it.
I met a boy.
it’s 3:29.




“He’s in his 40s. I was born in the 80′s.” 6th Avenue resounds on a Friday night.                            A laugh escapes me.

I pick up the pace.

Weaving my way through human trafficking like only a well seasoned New Yorker can. fast. Past the good-looking man saying, “I need to learn to walk faster.” {his friends’ laughter follows me}      A smile escapes me.
but only in the direction of straight ahead.

I have plans for this life I’ve been given. and it’s one fine night.