Every road brings me back to him. Every hymn brings me back to her - New York - my first love. Israel was my mistress and New York City my lover. New York, the one who would tell me things like, "I got you" and "no matter how bad it feels, we'll get through this together." Israel became the one who would say, "you can always come back to me" and "come find home in my arms."
Last night I revisited my youth. After walking New York City streets on a gray night I found myself in a pizza shop, free writing for the sake of writing because something just had to get out. I continued going down memory lane as one recollection brought me to another and another until my legs carried me back to the Bowery Poetry Club for the Urbana to end all Urbanas. Like I told my friend, I would give up cheese for the rest of my life all for that one evening.
It was like my youth revisited. I felt alive. I felt 16 again visiting this place, these people, connecting voices I've heard to faces. Being wowed by the poets, seeing the legends of my mind, seeing the legends of real life.
When I saw the future of spoken word perform, I realized that was something I still wanted very badly, only I had let myself forget. I saw on stage a version of myself that was more alive than I had ever been. And it stung in a bitter-sweet sort of way. And it gave me inspiration and motivation to revisit this place, this part of myself I let slip away sometimes.
After my book was signed, I hugged Beau and promised I'd call him before he left New York. I stepped outside and into my own world. I decided to walk the 35 blocks to my bus because nights like these are too rare to be spent on a subway. I silently vowed to immerse myself in the spoken word scene again, for reasons like wanting to be a part of this community, and needing to be inspired by this raw talent.
As I passed Astor Place I smiled, watching some kids running while spinning the cube. I looked at all the buildings around me, crossed the street and continued on my way, as I started to fall in love with New York once again.
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2 comments:
What's the saying about how, if you really love someone, you have to let them go, and then if they return, then you know it was real? It's kind of like that. But it's sad that we have to let it go to begin with.
excellent entry
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