Ad Hoc Fiction

You Will
You will arrive from the Metro and breath in the eclectic air and wonder about all the things you’ll do. You will rent an apartment on 35th Street overlooking a mural of Dali. You will laugh with new friends. You will play at coffee shops. You will ask and ask, but they won’t listen to it, despite your persistence.
      You will know poverty. You will sweep floors. You will drag pallets. You will bus tables. You will busk street corners (6th and 33rd will be one of your favorite haunts). You will feel lost at sea. You will meet someone. You will break-up. You will still play at coffee shops. You will sleep on strange sofas. You will cut the fingers off your gloves at the knuckle. And yet, you will sing soft melodies to the cool raindrops that patter your window at night, and you will understand why.