you know there is always a duaune reade at the end of the block
you don’t go back to a hotel or someones couch after a new years eve party
you know that the train leaves at 10:42
you make a calculated dash across the road on red and a poor tourist follows you and almosts get hit by a semi.
you catch yourself saying “router” to rhyme with “outta”
you no longer squeeze up against the subway window when it’s crossing the Manhattan bridge to catch a glimpse of the city at night
you mutter “fucking tourists” under your breath whilst pushing someone out of the way
