Well, you’re finally a millionaire. It’s what you wanted. Uptown on the 6. Woman to woman. A loving friend grimace and clutch of the shoulder. It was not death, but a divorce. The air of triumph definitely said divorce.
Woman you better back up or I’ll cap you in the peach. On the C Train platform at Nostrand headed deeper into Brooklyn. A mother concerned about someone who wasn’t there. The threat of shooting implies the presence of a gun.
A volunteer after school project somewhere in Harlem. Almost 15 years ago. Not sure if he was then P. Diddy or Puff Daddy or simply Sean. Two women talking about a party the night before. This guy tried to tell him to dial the country code first and he responded [something something], I know, I’m an international player.
You’re BUTT interview suggested that you liked beards and maybe daddies. I wasn’t looking for you that night. I was smoking outside that B bar or bar B on the LES, which no longer exists. The tweed sports coat and sweater were not for you. What’s up professor? Is that what you said to me, Kele?
On that cobblestone street in Jerusalem I had seen you in the neighborhood a few times during our stay at the hostel. You crazy lady … you diviner. We were walking at night. Did you warn her to watch out for me … he’s gay? It wasn’t time, and I do not think she heard you.