Maybe I should write a short story about Mary, the homeless woman I knew from outside the D’Agostino’s at 23rd and 8th in Chelsea.

It’s funny how we remember some people and don’t remember others. I gave Mary a dollar a few times a week for years. Never really did learn much about her. When she disappeared, I didn’t even notice for a while.

We’re all so ephemeral.

Written by

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot.

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