They’re always bitching at me not to leave my till. Todd, Margaret, all of them. Always bitching. Though, they never explain just how it is that I’m supposed to know what the lady standing in front of me means when she says, “A grande-caramel-latte, and one of those on the end” and starts pointing her……
My Poem “The Best Place Not To See Paris” was published as part of the HIV Here and Now project. Go Check it out: Poem 149 ± October 31, 2015
Is it still- no, Is that just rain still falling? You know, dripping from the trees still. Yeah it is, it’s just what is left. They look like they think it’s spring. You know? Like they are just blooming. It’s pretty. The light really. I mean. I hate to tell them. God. Is it fall……
Agreed – loved the NYT post. (An Austrian in NYC, who is thinking about his long-lost love, who is in Vienna)
Your NYT piece was wonderful. Looking forward to reading your first novel.
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