Thursday, August 05, 2004

East Village Love/Hate Song #2

Last night I pased by a storefront. Behind the doors I used to sit with people I called (and still call) my hermanos and hermans and plan protests and other means of struggle. My daughter played on the floor during political education meetings until the crew figured out the need for babysitting. Now those peeps have moved to the Bronx.

Last night I sat across the street from a bar where I became "the other woman' over cuba libres. In the same bar I sat with a boy I dated who was legal to fuck but not legal to drink with me. He used a fake id to get drinks.

I've danced in many of these lounges. I have read poetry in a few of them too. Many a dark corner , inside and out, bore witness to many kisses.

There were police cars in Tompkins Square Park , enough to make me uncomfortable as I smoked a cigarette remembering protest rallies where I worked security inside that green space filled with such a history of subversion and fuck you politics.

Last night another corner, another dark club, another man, wrote its history into my mind. Continuing the love song, the lament that this part of the city sings with me.


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