i left albany for
some days in the
ocean state
called maine. and
when we came back
the city looked even
a little bit different.
when i walk past the
steps leading down to
the albany coffee shop
i always think i can hear
the folding chairs of ghosts
scrapping against the
linoleum floor as they get up
to bring a dish to the counter.
seems like many diners
have dined there. happily.
it wasn't open when
i took this picture.
but i can tell it's
always open for ghosts
of lark albany's past.
1 comment:
This being right across the street from where I live, I know this place well. I've never been inside because, to me, it feels like I'd be transgressing to a place I don't belong.
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