(no subject)

[ecce_b]

on the night of the second round of Laurie Anderson
I leave brooklyn and the habana outpost and my four stories
(each of them there with me, each their own sad little vignette)
and
I come home to an empty apartment
and am just down.

I was thinking of you, I was thinking of you
I was thinking of you
and then I wasn't
thinking of you
anymore.

I think it was the first time I thought of New York
as a good place for a pilgrimage.