Walk/Run

Such sweltering heat, such neverending fog to wade through. Pity men their suit jackets. Clear your phone of social media and end up with hours of solitaire, what did you accomplish? 

A bomb explodes in Chelsea and everyone scrambles for a connection. It's been so long since the Ground was a pile of rubble but longer still for those who were children when it happened. I saw it in a museum but the pictures weren't black and white. 

I have long conversations with you when I run. You don't know it. Your answers are eloquent, sometimes you say what I wish you did and others what I wish you wouldn't. You don't know it. Entire lifetimes play out between Williamsburg Bridge and Battery Park, past the kids playing quidditch, the Chinese women with their synchronized dancing and the tourists who don't know how to walk where I don't trample them. You follow me, whisper in my ears. Sometimes I run faster to get away from your words, but I never seem to run fast enough. 

Everywhere I turn, I want to tell you about it.