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Leaving New York photo


This was not that long ago, but it could have been at any time, New York has that way about it.

We met on Coney Island, I was with friends, he was the doorman for the Freakshow.

“Pay a dollar to see something strange,” he announced.

I paid that dollar, mostly because I wanted an excuse to talk to him. He was witty and charming, acquainted with the unusual, wore a newsboy cap, and a delightful smile - this was the type of fellow I gave my number to. Those comfortable with the fringes, people who are curious, familiar with mischief and things that are difficult to define.

Some days later, an early summer afternoon in the East Village, ice cream and a meander through the city was the plan. It can be said for anywhere, but especially in New York, taking a wander is a sufficient adventure for a date.

The afternoon light was sharp and warm, the ice cream cold and creamy. We didn’t have any particular path and we found delight along the way. The sun went down and the afternoon gave way into a fiery dusk, the heat of the day unrelenting. 

We escaped into that New York night, with its shine and gritty shimmer. The throughways were flooded with light, we took the side streets, lined with bushy trees shading us from the luminescent cityscape.

Back at his apartment in Brooklyn, we waxed philosophical in the tiny kitchen, over cheap white wine in old fashion glasses.

“My mother was born just blocks from here,” I mentioned, “I’ve always wanted to try and find her building.” We fell asleep on white sheets and I left before dawn, to catch a train or plane, something bound for somewhere. Ever was I going- somewhere else.

Later, he would write me letters with a scrawling script on thick paper pressed with flower petals and seeds. If that all wasn’t romantic enough, the letters read that if I planted them in soil, wild flowers would grow from his lovely prose.

I want to say that this was the beginning of a grand and epic love story, and it was, whether it continued or if it ended, isn’t really important. The shining, absolutely timed moments of it, were all given by the grace and enchantments of New York City.