My girlfriend broke up with me a couple of weeks ago, but didn’t tell me. She told me later, but then she told me it was o.k. cuz we got back together.

Oh.

(I actually didn’t really know we were together in the first place)

That’s right, she said later. That’s why you should be flattered that I broke up with you, because by saying that, that meant that we had been together.

I’ve been telling people this story, and she told me that she didn’t want me to tell people this story.

Okay, that’s it, she said. We’re breaking up.

I walked out of my apartment the other day onto 2nd Avenue, the former home of the 2nd Avenue Deli (I never ate at the 2nd Avenue Deli). What avenue is the 2nd Avenue Deli on? It is currently between 3rd Avenue and Lexington. There was a kid, let’s say he was 14, but that might not be right, but it gives the idea. He was dressed completely from The Clockwork Orange, purple bowler, eye-makeup. He has a few other lil’ friends around, girls, boys, also costumed similarly. He seemed to be being harassed by kinda big ageing hippies, but not like peace-love hippies (gawd the hippie thing was a long time ago) but jus sorta big ‘ol guys in white-t’s and long stringy hair.

I identified with his dramatic attire, even if I don’t like Kubrick, that movie, or the book it’s based on, or the writer of the book it’s based on. I just like kidz dressing-up, cuz I usta do it. (I seem to remember walkin’ ‘round wit’ a burger-king ashtray pinned on my shirt). Actually, I still do it. I mean not the ashtray, but you know what I’m saying. I’m aware of what I wear. I like to be.

So here I thought I would come to the aide of my peeps, my urchins, my outcasts, and sons and daughters of grab-bag garb. Then I noticed somethinc. The kid had a big knife in his hand. A big knife, shiny, and the blade kinda lookin’ like a lobster claw, with an indent off to the side of the steel.

The ol’ big non-peace lovin’ hippie types were making fun of the kid, basically sayin’ c’mon stab me. Ya not going to do it. C’mon. C’mon.

And the kid, with backwards footsteps as delineated by design as the clothes he was wearing, yeah like he was almost choreographed, you know what I’m saying, step-back, step-back, step-back, slowly, hold the knife in front of you, was stepping back slowly, holding the knife in front of him. I kept walking and crossed to the other side of the street.

I left a message on my girlfriend’s machine later, to see if we were still together.