Our Last Night Was At The Plaza Hotel I was on the phone with my mother when I realized our end was almost as extravagant as the beginning. My Mom and I, we’re just now able to talk about the way life feels. And so in my new openness I tell her about you, filling in the gaps I was afraid to share when we first began. I told her about the night we met. How pivotal it felt when I went back to the oatmeal shop and told my friends about my adventures. The way we closed down the bar at 4:00 and then pedaled over the bridge into Brooklyn. How we lied down near the carousel and watched the sunrise over The City. The beginning couldn’t have been more romantic. And then there was the end. The Rose Bar at the Plaza Hotel. Fresh off the gondola in Central Park. A fancy bar in our summer clothes. You and me, we’ll always be ones for opulence.