Genius (next door)

The rats are back on Avenue D, I watch them scurry between the hedges and under the cars. Their return is oddly comforting, one habit following its course, feels like home. I scrub the floor until every last dust bunny is eradicated. In my home country we call them dust rats but there is no correlation. I take deep breaths of Pine-Sol and it's almost as good as the pills at reminding me how to smile. There's no pine oil left in the formula, perhaps I wish I didn't know that. The evening reads like déjà-vu, the wikipedia entry drones how people also tend to experience déjà vu more in fragile conditions, and I guess I wish I didn't know that either. June ends. The lightning bugs are out, ephemeral, impossible to catch, they seem to beam their love language when they are just out of your vision. Summer carries on, ignorant of our panic, indifferent to our plight. Just as well. What I wouldn't give to be indifferent to it too. He says for a hundred dollars we can make piña coladas upstate for a month, and in my head I'm already mentally packing my bag. Down the street someone sets off another round of fireworks.

We know so little of what comes in this life. Less, perhaps, than ever. Maybe we're better off leaping into it, than waiting for an answer which may never come. Paint on the ignorance, wear it like a sword.