His Music and His Music and a Garland of Figs and a City

I'm leaving and city that in which I'm beginning to love. And the days don't pass for nothing do they? Even if I'm one beat too late and unlike all this music (new to me) I'm a little off-key, but guess what? Not too much. I mean I am sad, sad, sad about goodbying this town but I spent a whole day and clear into the night in my new city and was loathe to leave and this kicking and screaming may be for nothing, my new life might be kind of wonderful. Last night's electrical storm was amazing, the sky had just given up most of that sunburnt end of day color when this really dark sky crawled over the east side of the horizon and with it: strings of copper-colored lightning--how that? But it was and it was so gorgeous, I wanted to send it to all of you. Today I yard-saled myself into the hottest little Simmons desk for my new dwelling (yes, Babies, I said office--home office and work office--a girl can't be a loser her whole, long life.) A little deco coffee-table and the coolest old medical diagram of the human body muscle and bone. In the ottoman I bought to keep at my temporary home, I packed away a kitchen kiss with its vertigo that had not a thing to do with the gin.

There's a someone in New York (maybe the Jersey coast tonight, actually) and a someone sorry. There's a someone late to the station but there nonetheless and here completely. For whatever it's worth.