Saturday, January 14, 2012

One Saturday evening

My friend once picked me up from my apartment at 101st and West End Avenue. He had a motorcycle and two helmets. I rode on the back. We did 65 miles per hour and I twisted my neck to the left and watched apartment buildings fly by. We weaved in and out of traffic and pedestrians seemed to walk right next to us and stop. In about 10 minutes we parked, removed the helmets, he pulled some tickets from his jacket, we walked a few feet and we were in a club. The music was softly playing as we held a beer in one hand the helmets in another.

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