Central Park

Here again. Saturday midday, sunshine is filling the baseball field nearby. Kids are screaming. We're sitting on a bench, I'm holding her tenderly over the shoulders and smiling. I'm in a mood, talking too much — and too much shit, too. Earthy, vulgar, jolly. She laughs — at me and with me — and I know that this is a moment of a true connection, a priceless instant that keeps us going on. And going on together.