and You

Brooklyn, Brooklyn 
take me in 
Are you aware the shape I’m 
in

The F train makes you wait just long enough to remember how tired you are, how far from home when it’s late at night on a holiday weekend and all the city has escaped. I wrote a story once about New York after the apocalypse and I think perhaps this is what it feels like. Disorienting. The bridges are always their best late at night, I hear myself say I have to go home there’s a manuscript waiting for me. Maybe it would be different if it was different but I’m setting my sights to other tunes now, what are you going to do about it. Arrive late and trembling on my own stoop, I forget who I thought I was and maybe it doesn’t matter. Morning arrives, a manuscript waits for me.

September has a lot to prove.
Whatever it chooses, I am ready.