In California, a smoke cloud billows out of the military siege. Do you remember how it was last time? And the time before? Do you remember who sat on the right side of history in the end?
A wasp gets trapped inside my bedroom window, too exhausted to leave when I clear the path. I feed it sugar water and strawberries, it delights and revives. We could all do with a little comfort, a little care.
Instead we are kicked into a world of each-person-for-themselves-ness and suspicion. I look at apartment listings on the lower east but wonder if perhaps the answer lies in a country cabin no one could reach. The questions are the same year after year, why
do we keep asking them?
The application asks if I've ever been a communist, ever been a terrorist, ever been married to more than one person at a time. It seems the Vogons are alive and well among us.
I'm packing my books. I don't need this reality from you.
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