Saturday Should Be Cleaning

Went to Cafe Henri in LIC for french toast; I could

make french toast at home, and even put those tasty

little almond slices and powdered sugar on the top.

But it wouldn't fufill the same urge for people watching--

the waitress that overflowed the water glass when distracted

by a bee that had flown a little to close-- plus I enjoyed

the yellow walls, and the choking warning sign that had been framed

and hung prominantly as art inbetween the impressionist work

of the 59th street bridge-- feeling groovy-- and the metalwork--

form and function-- holding up the range hood.

Afterwards we walked to Gantry State Park; I sometimes grow tired there

as if the park is sole blame for city ennui. Gorgeous, yes, but a place I visit

only when there seems nothing better to do-- a feeling I abhor.

Tonight, company. From Philly, old friend, we saw him last in Pittsburgh,

early morning breakfast with friends of friends we did not know.

I should clean before he arrives, in fact, has already arrived to the city

and even now on his way to the burroughs: prepare the guest bed to be

properly inviting in appearance, and tidy the detritus of a creative life.

Tonight, we may go see either one band, or that other one, unless we

get roped into going to that party in the city, or worse yet, that other

party in New Jersey. This is my last summer in the city. I don't want

to spend it partying in New Jersey.