110 St. Marks

this is my old doorway. this is the ledge that i sat on. smoked cigarettes and talked on my cell phone. drank fresh margaritas from plastic cups. sipped warm beers when the power went out. welcomed people in. ushered people out. where i was attacked. where i sat for hours with friends and watched the world go by. where strangers stopped to ask for a light, ask for directions, or claim some connection. where friends walked by unexpectedly. where i waded through 4 feet of snow in the name of brunch. this is the doorway to the apartment i lived in twice as long as i've lived here. this is the doorway i walked out of to go dancing, sparkling. this is the the doorway i returned to as the sun was coming up. this doorway changed colors on a monthly basis. this is the doorway i hauled heavy bags through, after trips to far-away places. where thoughtful vivian stopped to take a picture, on her last trip back. where my mail arrived. where out-of-town friends arrived. where i arrived home, so many times.