Chelsea Memory No. 1

There’s another me, in another time, strumming a guitar on the fire escape of the Chelsea Hotel peering through the window as a neighbor shoots up a smack into the track infested crook of his arm.

I strum as Leonard toodles and hums and tries some lyrics, making me blush over his subject matter. He immortalized a particularly hungry afternoon of love making after a booze infused night on the town. Leonard laughed as he caught my blush, his basso purr playing along my nerves as if they were his fingertips making their way up my thighs – a familiar route for a familiar lover at the Chelsea Hotel.