Dear New York,
I come back to you like an addict, an on-again-off-again lover who feels in his heart that one day we will only be on.
I love the way the cool air of your subway trains almost makes up for the suffocating heat of your platforms, the satisfaction I feel when I snake past frustrating packs of stopped tourists on the sidewalk, the relief of finding a Starbucks without a bathroom line after an over-delayed train ride holding my bladder.
Though I’ve never called you mine, I hesitate when a stranger asks if I’m a tourist or a local. I proudly recite directions when I know them and tiptoe reluctantly around the many questions I cannot answer about you.
I leave you today not knowing when we will be back together, or for how long, but the tryst has been satisfying for the time.
Till we meet again.