A weekend comes, and goes. You get a brief moment's break, but what is a bandaid against a bullet wound? The days are sunny, so sunny, I ran along the river with my eyes closed, trying to blind myself with its powers, she says did you ever think of moving somewhere brighter but what does she know. A building three blocks up burns to the ground, takes a neighboring church with it. Those who've been here before say it reminds them of the way back when. Rents plummet. You wonder if maybe there's a chance to rise out of the ashes ahead. You want so much to rise out of these ashes.
Three more weeks of a year that burned the ground from under us. Three more weeks of a chance at redemption. You start over a thousand times, at some point it's bound to stick.
If you just set enough fires,
eventually you have a numbers game
on your hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment