Woke up to the bells of Beacon Hill, at the Union Club; fireplace, 15-foot ceiling, overlooking a seventeenth-century cemetery.
Packed, showered, grabbed a coffee at a breakfast joint, Formica counters, same owner since 1977, across from the State House, next to my barber shop.
Took a train out of Boston, read a bio on Rudyard Kipling, napped. Six hours and several delays later, I arrived in Manhattan - caught a cab outside Madison Square Garden to 57th & 3rd.
Rode the elevator to Apartment L on the 11th floor. My buddy owns it.
Two magenta wingbacks
Shower without a curtain
Large paintings leaning face-first against the walls
300-square-foot terrace
Arco floor lamp
Mattress without sheets
I’m in New York.
-Composed, Edited, and Published at 57th & 3rd, New York
