The sky is gray, I love it this way. Thunder and lightening, pouring rain. I walk through it no shelter, this is my kind of weather. I am in New york patiently awaiting a taxi. Theres no hurry, but he didnt charge me a sitting fee. I get out hair still plastered to my face, I love the moisture, I love this race. I stop at the corner store for a cola and a square, stood under the awning and sparked a flame, just staring at the chaos. People chasing taxis while yelling on the phone, brief case in hand. Worried about all of their failed plans, I have no plans, I cannot call it! I refuse to commit! I dont have to do shit! This is my perfect day.
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Delicate State 