Life of Leisure

Exhale. At the edge of my street in the dull murmur of a rainy night.

My legs ache . A sign of standing for a living.

Also a sign that I strolled silently across Manhattan at tonight's end.

It took the growing puddles, glistening in the dim lights of quaint West 13th. to reflect back at me the constant stir of motion and motivation that flows through this city like fluid.

I've missed it.
This visual of time...passing.

In this revealing of others, playing out their lives during the bathing of our spring sidewalks and my hooded head, I realized this is precisely how writers, write.

 They examine life around them at a slower pace than the express train to the Bronx or the ticking clock of a production's schedule.  They make the moments to observe amongst the contented and dreamers. They join them. And drink.

This evening, in the 12th hour. They called a wrap on me. Done. Law and Order SVU Season 13.

More the wiser, definitely more the whinier.

But now I have the time, in a simply fantastic city, to muse.