this week i

climbed the subway stairs north of the circle.  erin pulled the bikes out, we negotiated traffic toward the green rectangles on the map of the city.  east building has everything.  gary already browsing in the mezzanine, nothing blue from picasso nor the big rooster, better music at the stereo equipment showcase earlier that week.  but the east building has everything.  after hours crowd too noisy, lines too long, refuge at the bar.  otherwise the east building has everything.  "excuse me ma'am, what is neonata" "let me check.  like a baby fish." "like anchovies?" "no not like that." and we shared a plate of truffle fries.

parked at david's and plumbed the numbers for something special.  he poured over a pot of coffee, only a thimble himself, slathered butter on a baguette, mapped a stan.  the taco waitress recommended tongue, it was alright.  always between one bird and seven dozen birds in that tree.  end of the workweek, i stood in the alleyway rain where i'd looked at carriage houses for sale years ago.  erin introduced ourselves to the hostess, any allergies? no for me, no for both of us.  the bartender walked away, erin whispered, "i really don't like mayonnaise."  we drained the glass after each performance, everyone likes a beet infused manhattan.  over allotted time, the staff smiled, asked us to leave.  at the embassy with the african elephant out front, we stood in the buffet line, chatted up the artist of an aslan sunrise.  closed down with a damn peppermint ice cream cone.