Respira

Sound machines create gentle waves along the ceiling, I awake to cool air through open windows, the weather this year has been a dream while everything else has been a nightmare, how do you account for that? We sat on welded chairs in the Allen street median last night and she said Maybe I look at apartment listings in New York, I could drive this car back across the land and again I remembered how everything changes but the city remains. We can always come back. Or not. But when the foundations around us tremble this place doesn't budge. I listened to her reassuring voice, the rounded r and the familiar melody, and thought family is something we create.

I know you want me to walk away from the things that hurt, but I will not. I know you want me to want something more reasonable but the truth is the only people for me are the mad ones and I never despaired over that. We rolled home two water drums from an old lady's basement and said this is the most Brooklyn thing and the moment was the gift, not the drums. I know you want me to follow the script but I have veered off key all my life and never regretted it.

We are burning the cities to the ground this year. Let us build our dreams in their place.