Summer bursts onto the scene, Manhattanites emerging from their hiding places in flimsy outfits and pale skins. I took the train to the Bronx to see life in action, but all that happened was my falling apart in the lilacs (they were beautiful). I slipped little pills out of a side pocket to ease the pummeling of my soul but they only dusted the sides of the vicious edges.
We went to a bar later, her dancing around happiness and my trying to put together coherent sentences, but I ended up on the floor of the restroom crying silently into the tile words that must not be repeated. Rinsed my pounding veins with cold water, trying desperately to put the pieces together in an orderly fashion. For minutes it works. For hours it doesn't.
Second Avenue spills over with happy people, sweltering Saturday nights and the world is your oyster. I put one foot in front of the other, grateful for the empty darkness at the top of the stairs. I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.
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