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On my way to New York City 4/11/95 Any ride to New York City reminds me of you, Rt.80, Giant's stadium, the diners, 70's style motor inns 39.99, the murky river, then gaseous skyline in the distance, 495 east to Lincoln Tunnel, escaping the yawn of suburbia and suspicion of backwoods johnny law. Roaring into the city..... through tile acoustics and spaced out runway of acidic orange lights. Roaring into the chaos, dirt, crime, perversion of neon... Ahh... Central Park, you and I like 2 children in this lottery candyland. Far away enough for anonymity, close enough for the danger of enterprise. Monopoly of ziplocked mysticism, New York City squares with a dash of pcp for good measure, sweet corruption. Tripping by the time were on 80 again, (s)miles past the stadium, diners, and motor inns, past headlights, humanity, and the guise of drug free school zones, laughing and longing back to nowhere, our haven alone.
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