By the time I reach the pier, the winds of sunset have picked up, waves thrashing against the concrete and cascading over lovers, gathered to see the sky on fire. New York beams into the beginning of summer, bares its pale shoulders, asks to have this dance. Your adopted neighborhood attempts to woo you, not realizing how easily swayed your feet, how light your heart. Yes, you say, yes. That is enough.
The nights are long and lonely.
But they get shorter
when the midst of summer
draws near.
Another cruise ship appears while you sleep, it waits outside your kitchen window when you wake, a quiet nod, a gentle greeting, Manhattan lying grey and shivering beyond. You try to take the wink, try to will story out of your unbreathing creative mind, but the wind blowing through your window is so cold, you think your heart will never thaw again.
You win some,
you lose some.
But at some point don't the two need to even out?
It’s all too much, you hear yourself whisper in the mirror, unwilling to say the words with your back straight, with your voice loud. Eons of regret build beneath your skin like boils, they bubble to the surface like bee stings, you long for the road and your car and you know, you know, that it’s only your broken insides masquerading as freedom, this mental illness has been glorified for too long, you’re ready for your reward now.
New York rumbles underneath your feet.
You cannot feel a thing.
Just before sun set, I left the office and got on a bike at Hoyt Street. Turn right on Sackett, cross Smith and the little incline up Boerum Hill, before it's all downhill all the way home. Riding west, the deep, low apricot beam of a sun hangs right beneath the treelined archway. There's a cool breeze in the air, there's the end of a work day on the breeze, my limbs ache with movement, with life, it is May now, and all the things that are to come lie here before us.
Are you ready for the things to come?
They are here for the taking.
So take them.
