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About New York City

Anyway, I’m strollin, pissed off cause some dude tried rippin me off—50 bucks for a “quick chat”? Fuck that noise. Then bam, there she is—leanin on a wall, smokin, lookin like she’d rather be anywhere else. “A face with no name,” like Llewyn’d say. I’m happy as shit, tho—found her! Surprised me how easy it clicked, like she knew I wasn’t no cop. “What’s your story, darlin?” I ask, all smooth, Lecter-style. She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “What story, man? This is it.”

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Oh shoot, I remember one steamy night—so mad, so real. I was struttin’ down Vermont Ave, right? I bumped into a couple who was so overt with their queer love that it made me giggle and holler “Halleluyer!”—pure, unfiltered passion! Sometimes, I nearly burst with pride... And yeah, there are moments when I was mad at the noise, all that blarin’ music and honky-tonk buzz, but it’s a vibe. You don’t know until you live it.

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