this week i

pulled into 30th street station, walked past drexel banners then upenn.  priyanka drives six more fridays, i caught her on the corner direct to fort lee.  we ate momos with tomato base, ginger liquor not as swell as remembered.  twelve hours later we fought costco, bought super mario super sized flower pots then dissuaded riya from mid-day napping up and down the jersey palisade cliffs across south bronx.  hot sauce bath for both rupak and my empanadas, chocolate popcorn for dessert.  first bus at drury lane never came, half hour late straight down bergen avenue.  i pressed my nose against maison kayser glass, emilie thought coincidence on par with marsellus wallace eating a chili dog.  we beat the moma crowds to joan miro, huseyin drooled at the foot of the fiat.  three birthday books at parkside french bookseller, we inhaled two personal pizzas before boston bethesda same time departures.  rod rosenstein first on my phone, then gazing out from his wisconsin avenue dinner table a block from bus drop off.

assume kenyette is the one standing next to the truck, an embarrassing mistake front and center.  early last century we thought physicists would run the world, late last century the torch passed to neuroscientists.  now computer programmers claim that flame.  don't be fooled, nobody's driving.