A Place for Us

Twenty years later, punks, drunks, and wayward youth still call St. Marks home

"I came to New York specifically for St. Marks Place. I dreamed about this place."

It's last call, and I tell Sage I'm going home. I get up and the room is spinning. Once I get my balance, I head toward the door. Sage yells something and I turn my head weakly.

"Down here," she laughs, "they come in like a lion, baby, and they go out like a lamb."

I stumble through the doorway, and the door shuts behind me. Slaaaaaaammmmm.

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