i can't wait just like you can't wait / until we're out past familiar gates / those seven words shook the life back in / so let's just run 'til we lose our breath.

it’s your word to God’s ear. and everything else will just have to be.

Posted: May 8, 2012 | Posted by marcy |

east harlem is an oasis of purity.

[um, what?!]

just as long as you understand that it’s not greenwich village.

[well. um. duh.]

and so long as you don’t wander past the jefferson projects at night.

[huh? that’s 2 blocks away! and for 5 months out of the year, “night” begins at like four o’clock!!]

and don’t wear any jewelry.

[hang on. i’m a girl. come again??]

just keep your wits about you.

[okay, done. check. i’ve lived in these parts for long enough to know even that.]

 

i will say this about it, though . . .

it’s about as authentic as they come.

[and i like love that.]

and not riddled with the yuppie imports of select neighborhoods which will remain unmentioned.

[who has time for that anyway? oh wait. i’m an import. scratch the import bit.]

it’s as raw as the infection once was that sent me to the emergency room.

[which was well over a month ago. meh. moving on.]

he tells me there’s a cuban joint on the next block with great food.

[i can do cuban food.]

the fire department is within spitting distance.

[ya know. in case i want to set something on fire.]

and the bar next door is hailed as the dive of all dives. and only plays country music.

[okay, this will work. i can tap into my southern roots while getting knee-knocking drunk on the cheap at the same time. two birds. one stone.]

 

i can promise you absolutely nothing except this . . .

i will rock it.

[one way or another. and possibly multiple ways. yes. multiple ways.]

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