I am in New York. Broadway. 42nd St. High noon. Sidewalks crowded like I've never seen before, not even in Chicago where I went to sleep. How did I get here? George is with me. Now he isn't. Broke in August. Hot and humid. Scrubbing garbage cans behind the restaurant. Rats jump out and scare me. Take my money and go. Dumb western on 42nd St. Wake up with a bloody mouth and sore jaw. Nauseous. Beautiful lunch on a mansion patio in Westchester. Great lawn. Nightime. Sidewalks jumping with rhythm. Birdland. Wow! Tuxedo knocks me down. Huge hand helps me up. Sonny Tufts apologizes profusely. SONNY TUFTS!! Three button, natural shoulder Ivy League suit dominates store window until I walk out with it. Long bus ride at night. Bright tower in Philadelphia. Wake up in Chicago. No. I am in Los Angeles, dreaming a memory. Or remembering a dream.