by Joseph Grant
From the stoop of my brownstone, the world passes me by and never stops and I sip a slightly warm beer in the sweet-scented, pleasant summer breeze that is only tenuously interrupted by the spices of other cultures mixed and melting in the pots of this mixed melting pot and I breathe a sigh of relief; for the City as it were, does not exist here, it is a distant memory of subway ride away. Tonight, Greenwich Village is a canvas alive with its showcase of artists, addicts and freaks and I sit among the growing blue shadows and watch the happy in-love couples as they walk by and think of you. My mind is taken back to the time, same time two years ago when I saw my future in your smiling eyes and I said hello and you kept walking but suddenly stopped. We walked the City that night and talked nearly until the sun rose and made love at dawn and you moved in with me not long after and we were happy for the longest time, but you felt the need to walk away from my door again and one day you were gone. The City changed for me then and with your leaving, the hidden ugliness became apparent, just like the smell of exhaust, urine, rotting garbage and now I notice the grit and the grime from the fireplaces that once seemed so romantic. Now loneliness sits with me on the stoop in place of you and the footsteps wander up and down my street all day and the winds grow colder now and the City is no longer the same wondrous place it once was since you stopped coming around my door.
Joseph Grant, whose full catalog is here, is a 6S All-Star and the first featured author in our "Six Sixes" series.