oh how we love the tenderloin, so few of us and far between. smoking help me think. brilliant and so many ideas from the smoke that's lifting that never gets written down and i've been saying to myself i love him and saying to other people too. funny how other people will know i love him before he does. i need my lauren. i need my shawn. i need my busse.
middle-aged men behind me talk of the glories of great coffee, none of which i've drank since paris and no lattes since april. poor man's drip coffee cream and sugar. sustains me and my pocket. coffee and cigarettes a close second to wine and. & i just remembered to write to a friend who is far away. shaking too much caffeine not enough food maybe i'll drift to chinatown market for oranges. sweet and sticky and smelly. rose pistola. caffe roma. il triangolo. we're in little italy.