LATTES WITH OSCAR WILDE (JULY 26, 2001)
What is it that is so comforting about a latte on a rainy day? Something so
perfect about sitting in a cafe talking to the Lord about this and that, and
sipping through a blanket of steamed milk to the perfectly warmed, vanilla
latte.
And there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Here with my Bible and my 1911
edition of Oscar Wilde; Selected Poems, looking out at the threatening sky
and all the other people with someplace to go, someplace to be. A job to
keep, a child to gather, a lover to please.
There's a window on the top floor of Carnegie Hall that is open. It's
twisted just open enough to see the descending staircase backstage. Carnegie
Hall. God! I'd love to run those wings!
The tables surrounding me have filled gradually. I'm now encompassed by
noise, but all I can really hear is the poetry in my brain. I must be
insane. Ha! One can only hope.
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