Dear Seattle

21 Nov

Dear Seattle,

Today, you are cold and crisp and bright. Today, a friend made me lunch with the contents of his refrigerator, creating a creamy, soft and cheesy tomato sauce and spaghetti, and his Queen Anne windows looked out over the meeting of Lake Union and Lake Washington. We could see parts of University of Washington, and parts of the Cascades, and parts of downtown, and parts of trees losing their leaves. His Queen Anne roommate wore a plaid shirt and played the guitar as I did the dishes, and I had a chocolate for dessert.

Today, Seattle, I went to Bauhaus, an old bookstore turned into a coffeeshop, and they have good coffee, and Top Pot doughnuts, and floor-to ceiling windows. I was meeting a new friend, for the purpose of confirming that there were reasons we couldn’t stop talking the first time we met each other, and we sat for hours. I can see the Space Needle, and we traded names and poems and books and places to drink coffee. We sat at the intersection of HipsterVille and YuppieTown, and it got dark. The man in a sparkly leopard print cardigan leaned across the table towards his boyfriend in a white prep-school pullover (two stripes across the left arm) and the one at the next table over eavesdropped when I mentioned authors. I couldn’t turn around without meeting someone’s eyes, and no one looked away. The lights changed and the bus numbers stayed the same. A pit bull came in and stayed for a while. I could look down from the second-floor loft and see into the pastry case.

That’s really all it takes.




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