19

the whole sky opening up, or none of it: stupid fears like getting t-boned at a four way stop or falling out of the sky: the things that won't happen until it's too late: living next to a construction site for two years and only wanting to leave, having the guts to, once it's finally quieted down: just past sunset, the second week in a row the trash wasn't picked up, a whole block of offerings unanswered: the call of the gull who sits on the same lamp post all day, all year, shitting the top to a pure white, as pure as those things go: failing at it from the start, the project of belonging being nothing more than a shuffling, a shoulder turned in and brushed against a cheek, showing up to the same place time and time again: an apartment on the second floor, the concrete stairway I imagined another self at the bottom of, tried to walk towards: arriving is a quiet, slowed down to a pause