Surrender
Sitting at Andrew’s Diner on 34th street after “surrendering” my license plates. Strange term for it, I think, it’s as if conceding defeat on some count. I never liked the plates. The letters were unmemorable, and required too much creative energy to imagine that they might stand for something funny or meaningful. EKW. Egyptian Killing Wagon? Hey why not. The gentleman who took my plates had no full fingers and his head looked like it had been burned. He did not utter one superfluous word to me.
Going to make a wander of it today. I feel good.
