city couple

in the apple that never sleeps!!!

City Couple walks down Second Avenue: tall buildings and signs in Cyrillic, their geometric letters. Rusting fire escapes and long windows, bicycles and cars whip by, Watch out! City Boy says, his arm slapped across City Girl’s chest. City Couple gets coffee at minimalist coffee shop: succulents and vegan pumpkin muffins. Deconstructed lattes, one cup for espresso, another for milk, the third cup for an already constructed latte. White chairs and white tables and everything is white. City Girl gets hot chocolate. Not too bitter, not too sweet, City Girl whispers into City Boy’s ear. City Barista flirts with City Girl: long black ponytail and rumpled black skinny jeans. City Barista talks about banana bread and ten foot long cockroaches. I love your look, City Barista says, waving his hands as if tracing her body. City Girl, in her City clothes, laughs even though it wasn’t meant to be a joke. City Boy stands a few feet behind her, his hands stuffed in his pants and he’s watching City Mom and City Son. City Son is fidgeting in his chair, feet dangling and knit beanie covering his eyes. City Mom is dabbing at the hot chocolate dribble on his chin, architectural purse in her lap and tan coat draped over her shoulders. City Boy places his hands on City Girl’s shoulders. Look, he says, You got the same drink. City Girl swats at City boy. I get what I want, she says. City Couple leaves minimalist coffee shop. Hot drinks in hand, drinks too hot for their hands and steam wandering to their cheeks. City Boy catches City Girl’s hand and kisses her knuckles and aren’t they a sight for sore eyes, them with their drinks and their hands and their kissing? City Couple walks past homeless man, his limbs loose like jell-o, clothes at his ankles, his closet on the January pavement. City Couple, he says, City Couple, you look great today.