i'm lying on a yellow and orange woven rug in the park. with the tip of his finger, Z drips a line on water drops up the length of my arm. i feel each one. his look of concentration with a sly grin.
i walk back to J from the auto-teller to find him sitting perched on a plastic cable box. he's wearing a cap, my short sleeve shirt (high buttoned), and the face of a shy school boy.
a card from M, hand delivered, expressing warm words. throughout are several spelling error corrections and arrows to change the order of vowels.
aretha franklin sings Doctor Feelgood while we're stoned on the couch. a shared moment of awe.
a dozen pastizzi's and a jug of beer at the Union hotel.
a firecracker thrown from a car window as we eat gelato. a bang. and a shop alarm that never stops ringing.
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