Intellectual Property Law

Three nuns sat hunched on a bench on 96th street, their crosses colliding with the aluminum wrappings of three identical egg sandwiches. I watched their laughter and indulgence, prayer books tossed aside, and wondered if it's we who choose the challenge of belief, and why.

New York has won me back. I'd been yearning for reckless seduction and the raging brush-sweeps of Chagall lured me back to this island of fountains, opera houses, and late night sharp stiletto accents that roll playbills into joints and inhale euphoria. I've been walking alone in crowded places, again, and sipping my overdose of coffee, again, and talking to complicated strangers, again, and holding my breath so the visions beat faster while my heart stands still.

I've been waiting for Odysseus to walk with me and hold my hand, but time isn't stopping for us. There are skyscrapers and kingdoms to contend with, and while my nature is not politically expedient I know I can't watch seasons change and hope to harvest the ideas of an early July. I'm back to urban - fast though not yet flourishing- and while I wait, Odysseus may not be coming home.

There's a man with diamond studs and golden hair lining lead sheets in B flat. There's a man in fresh pressed suits who doesn't sleep but understands the soul of things. And then there's the girl, who follows the rondo of their conversation and doesn't let on how much she understands. That's safer for now.