It was bitterly cold yesterday; a few wisps of snow started drifting down in the evening, and by 10.30 it really started coming down. I imagine about now the TV networks will be going absolutely ape: OMG! Snow in New York for Valentine's Day!
I'm heading down to Central Park this morning to see what it's like down there, and this evening I'll probably be going to a performance poetry event. I wrote this for the occasion:
A Polygamist to his Loves
(Written on St Valentine's Day)
Let us go then, you and I... (and everyone else)
I've booked us a place in the sun;
A cosy set of hotel rooms
With beds for twenty-one.
Just you and I, my dear, and no-one other
And all my children's other mothers.
It's you alone, my love (in the collective sense)
That gives my heart this great experience.
Love is the medicine, restorative, and cure-all -
And works much better, don't you think, in plural?
I've got some news for everyone - you'll be delighted
............................ I'm getting married!
................................................................... And you're all invited!
More to come. I'll try and get some pictures up today, if I can work out how to do it on these computers.
UPDATE! The proof. Such as it is.
Outside my window. That roof at the bottom is normally ridiculously grotty.
The rooftops of NY.
Central Park. Not included are the pictures of famous writer-statues. I'm afraid to say that I laughed at one of them and called him not very nice names.
My ugly mug. Feel free to make fun of me and call me not very nice names.
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
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- The briefs...
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