The manila folder

by DRM

I lived in a studio on the Upper East Side, a couple of blocks off the river. I put my pay from my part-time secretary job into envelopes for the rent, food, utilities, student loans, dog food. Anything left over I used to buy beer and cigarettes. I played my saxophone on the streets to make up shortfalls.

I wrote. I sent things off. I recorded the outcomes. I listened for my voice, found it sometimes, lost it others.

Not much that truly matters has changed.