I got in my car and drove to New York to see my cousin Evander, agent Michelle. New York was the same, not so much had changed, the taxis insane, the first night I worked on my book, no Evander. I strolled down Fifth Avenue found Washington Square and found some red swings and I swung fast and high over the city where I sought sight. The taxis rushed fast, I was in New York at last, with agent waiting for book, already with hook, urgent and hungry as agents ought be. As the dark she did fall, a taxi I hailed, feeling quite mellow I made no conversation, had left my nerves at the playground beneath the wind-blowing swings was ushered back quickly to my discreet white hotel, West 11th, New York City , where I had come to see my cousin Evander, my agent Michelle. The next day I awoke with start from alarm and all the bells and whistles went off and I felt the alarm of my chest of the new, unfamiliar, familiar but in person. How easily we hide. I had parked my car and had driven so far, my little Mini in a lot off sixth avenue. I had come to see Michelle and my cousin Evander.

So when the telephone phone rang and I knew it was he I thought perhaps of not answering, then thought the thought absurd, in fact, quite cowardly so i answered. I picked up the phone and i said "Hello!" as if i did not feel one drop one nerve, perhaps he knew, did he know? Such shyness this, a near miss. So we meet and we greet, we walk fast through the drizzle, his black umbrella our shield and we find our way to the tea shop, 5th avenue , West 11th. We order chamomile tea, me with honey and sticky lipped we smile. My nerves dissipate as we speak childhood stories and we laugh, we talk, both serious and not, the verge, the hysterical that could swing either way, the two of us seem both amused, oddly nervous. Such it was with my cousin Evander.

The taxis whiz by, my Mini breathes in the lot, my swing blows in the wind, the Manhattan sky a low ceiling as the mist turns to drizzle as the tea-steam rises, as we left and said that always awkward goodbye between two people such as we, as me. The warm kiss to smooth cheek, the familiar family hold for that moment a bit longer, sympatico and in that one split-second moment the world stopped on its axis and everything spun about us offering up such easy comfort – the whizzing blur of yellow taxis and the constant parade of such ordinary people as they move down 5th avenue, West 11th. I see but do not see. Had just seen my cousin Evander.

So I drove to New York and I found my cousin Evander and I took yellow taxis and was taught obscure childhood games, (Merola) saw my agent Michelle, as I felt my heart tick-tock, on my tongue chamomile tea, honey, the you and the me, the toi et the moi, the smooth cheek the light kiss, the swings that swung high over Manhattan, the seeking you, seeking me, my car in the lot, the way I always get lost but somehow manage each time. The stutter and stammer. My blush and my hush. The taxis the tea. west 11th and fifth, the blur of the people, the chamomile please, the lips sweet with honey, the kiss a near miss, the shyness yet still, such blush, the tea-shop, the journey the trip, the every last bit – the all of it, yes, worth it.