. . . we were taking a late night walk around Red Hook on Saturday night. We happened into an old-timey neighborhood social club in an empty lot that was full of flea market objects and a home-made little hut in the back. They invited us in, not knowing us from Adam, and fed us freshly grilled fish and jerk chicken.
It as a clear sky, with the moon out, in a backyard in Brooklyn. The way it used to be. They gave us a few beers, then some shots of Tequila. Nice people. Told us stories of the neighborhood from before the plague.
One of the stories was about swimming and fishing off the pier at the end of Coffey street, which is right on New York harbor, overlooking the aforementioned lady.
When we bid our farewell, we decided to take a walk out to that pier.
I said "shhhh, listen to that". "What?" asked Megan. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing" When was the last time you heard no cars, no people, no train, no wind, no kids, no boats, no beefing. Amazing.
New York stood silent for us.
She's trying to make me stay.
At the end of pier, lit up in minty green, with the only sound the buoy bells carrying across the water, she lured us.
She welcomed me too. Years after the waves upon waves washed upon her and here.
Opportunity indeed. Maddening fury of chaos. Sysyphus had no idea.
Happy Birthday, fair lady. And thank you.
Jason - July 4, 2006