Grand Street Cafe, Brooklyn

by | Jun 23, 2023 | Writing the Weather

I was so with you then as not to notice the lofty city above nor the undertow just beneath our feet as I parked the car in a loading zone we would have to pay for later. It was one of those days in the city when the wind rips through you and doesn’t relent. I held your hand in my jacket pocket and the rest of you close beside and your hip kept brushing into me in a way that felt sacred and carnal amongst such public sky. Even in our bundled state and all that weather, I knew the scent and taste of your skin like you rolled in spice. Could call it up and have it block out the cold. The cafe was packed, but you are charming enough that strange men give up their table in a squall. I looked over my shoulder from the counter at the register and you were standing there staring at me trying not to smile too hard. The man now drinking his coffee against the wall as if you had banished him. His eyes only moved from you to study me. As curious to know, what I had that made you transfixed.

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