my walk home.

       I've been busy at work over the past few days.  At least busier than I've been for awhile.  Or at least I've made more of an effort than in awhile to busy myself with the work that I have. Whenever I get busy, I start to lose some regular perspective.  It comes with siting in my head in front of a computer all day without moving around too much.  Lots of brain activity, lots of eye activity, but very little body activity to balance. So when I actually leave in the night, my rolling through the rotating doors and bursting onto the street is a revelation.   
     No matter how many days I go through this, I have the same reaction and almost always let out a loud "Fuck Yeah" when I feel the air hit my face and brain.  My mind reinvigorates, and the pressurized swelling decreases. And I walk. I can take a cab, and do on occasion, but a great pleasure of living only 34 blocks from the office is that I can hoof it home in under 40 minutes.
    Along the way I cruise through the neighborhoods and note the shifts.  The Japanese take-over territory of the East 50s trend with the after-work suits and partying upper eastsiders into the upper 40s with the steak house obese out-of-towners on business and the stragglers heading out to the trains at Grand Central. There's some desolation between Third and Lex around 39th to 44th in the blown out streets littered with corporate salad containers and torn bags. An Irish bar on Third which stinks of stale smoke, pouring off the always ruddy patrons out on the sidewalk.  Random pizza shops that never appear open or are otherwise unnoticeable during the day, suddenly become prominent attractions. I keep going. 
   

making espresso.

steps 1+

roll sleeves. place portafilter into bell. place demitasse underneath. lift lever and let some hot water pour through. lower lever. place cup on base to retain heat. remove portafilter. take .5 steps back and dance for the approximation of 12 seconds. while still slightly gyrating, take paper towel and clean grounds remains from portafilter and spout. place portafilter on base.

steps 2+

turn on grinder and let lingering beans grind out. they have sat for up to 24 hours and can't be trusted to mingle with the beans which have been safely locked away, rolled in a foil bag inside a sealed plastic bag, and living inside a dark cabinet. shake the grinder slightly for a secure check that all beans have been dislodged. take short chopstick (with back and white alternating square chessboard pattern, purchased in a store from a mall attached to the train station in kyoto) and stick it up the spout of the grinder to ensure all remains have been cleared. turn off grinder. place chopstick into grounds metal bin container, which is underneath the spout. take down beans from cabinet and open plastic bag. remove foil bag. unfurl foil bag and shake some beans into the grinder hopper. not too many, but an ample amount approximated for 2 cups of espresso. place bag in any free space available.

ink

summer oh summer oh summer where have you gone
away with the lasting tastes of honey-melon and dewy moon soaked leaves
ragged hair unkempt knotting and grass and weeds like savage sets
yellow smears from black-eyed susans
from smelling much too hard

we went swimming on those nights
in the pond beyond the meadow and broken fence
we were trying to be quiet when we drove down the hardened dirt,
paranoid that someone, anyone would find out about the place
and show up unexpectedly
where we only wanted to be quiet and let go of our clothes
and close our eyes in the dark and be in the tiny space smelling our skin and sweat and dirt
falling half-mostly-asleep with stars lurking overhead and across the horizon
noses in each others arms
lips pressed against ribs
until much too late
until we pushed each other awake against our protesting murmured moans
and rambled
back to your truck
exhausted tumbling over the uneven road
making it home
falling inside
into bed
blanket somewhere else
forgetting to brush our teeth
biting each other instead