New York Epilogue...

...for z harvey

a $30 cab
brooklyn
to brooklyn
should i even tip?
certainly not the shortest route
but he did have three stops
aw fuck it
merry christmas mr. raza
middle of july

i'd come from a good bar in a too hip part of town. a bar that sold me british beer the way it should be served: hand pumped into imperial pints with a side of crisps. salt and vinegar. plus the empenada man showed up. but he ain't got nothin on the tamale guy. chicago tamale man. now see that's what made the second stop so hard to take. the chicago... not the tamales. not the man.

tonight ny city is losing one of its finest to that third coast empire. that breezy town i love to complain about. that frigid bitch of a city i fuckin hate. that midwestern mecca that will always hold special place in my heart. a city perfect, at least for a time, for a good southern man i watched get out of a cab at 5th and 20th brooklyn time and disappear into the night. the night spent with people i love. (with people who might just love my girlfriend more than me (but really... can't say's i blame em))

27. homeless. unemployed. i feel that, son, i feel that. i know where you comin from, and in this case i know where you goin. know it better than some ain't goin just are. i know its midwestern mexican, its hazy vague southside, its meat markets, donut bakeries, warehouse theatres, its 4 am beer bar holy grails, its northside stretch 'a long streets deserted at nights 'cept the occasional old timers bar make you feel like small midwestern town all wood board and darts marked only by slow swinging sign out front. old style. exactly.

i know it. did my own time. cracked her wide open. now it's his time. and so off he goes. that man among men. the one faced challenges we'll never know because they was his and never meant to be our own burden. faced challenges hid behind face 'a joy. he will be missed. he will be accepted. welcomed into other open arms not our own but just as warm. but for him... never warm enough. 'cause none can ever be quite so.

27. homeless. unemployed. for some folk - and usually the good ones - ain't no better way to be. i feel that, son. i feel that.