Sera

November. A day so beautiful it assaulted the senses, all crinkly leaves drifting slowly to the ground, crisp wind and warm sunshine, the river beaming in its swell. The dead cat still lies on the rocks; I learn a lesson and let it lie. There's was a lightness in my step for the miles under my feet, there's a quiet void around me. I spent the afternoon scrubbing the apartment, I know the routine. Quiet doesn't last forever so you'd best breathe while you can. Everything is going to be okay drifts past your eyelids like a news ticker: you stow it away for future reference, would like to send it across the ether. We take the air conditioning units out of the window, just as the heat comes on in the riser. Second avenue is quieted. My room smells like dust and winter.

The first few days I have to be careful even in my sleep,
so I don't roll over and burn myself.