By the end of the day, my eyes are watering. The deep yellow apocalypse has given way to skies capped at a higher altitude, but New Yorkers still bring out the masks from their pandemic time capsules, ready at a moment. You think, it begins, but the truth is the end of days have been counting themselves down for ages already. This species deserves no better. The Colorado River dries up.
The bartender says, New York real estate has weathered every storm, has always bounced back, as you discuss options beyond fifth street.
She says she moved to Cape Cod.
By the time you return home, eager to rediscover the magical mysteries of your unleashed interior, the winds have turned and new fires need extinguishing. You are reminded that no one minds your dreams but you.
Nothing begins
if you do not start it.
No comments:
Post a Comment