i heart ny

Five years ago, I was painting on the beach with Neruda's class when Dangerman rang my cell.
"Planes just hit the World Trade Tower and the Pentagon," he said.
Today, when he rang my cell at the same time of morning, I was standing on the dock in Galilee, en route to the city where I left my heart.
Between the two days were all his calls from Afganistan and Iraq.
Nothing much is settled still.
But New York is still New York. And I got a parking space.