Canal Street
The next thing I know I'm with the guy from the diner again. Were in the East Village, talking as if we are old friends. I feel all wet, like I'm underwater in a sea of light and dark simultaneously. The light coming from above, the darkness below, I'm in my mother's womb, wanting to stay inside the warmth, but I am moving closer and closer to the light, to the coldness of air. I must leave the warmth of the water soon and face the breeze swirling outside, without a towel to cover me. I must swim to the surface and face the light.
