I want to travel and live life until the sun goes quiet and the people turn into their warm homes and then write about it when the hours are hushed and filled with muted tufts of blue light.
I saw red, but behind the treeline.
Now I’ve seen the sun rise bright and humble
and I’ve seen it set, pulsating and vindictive.
All of this on a southbound train (inside lights dimmed),
embedded in and running through the northeastern body of this country.
While I watch through the windows I imagine that the other passengers can hear the sounds that are lapping at my brain in flaming rings.
you feel so happy and sated that you don’t understand how the chills of emotion running down your spine have not yet left through the open window and spilled down the sides of your apartment building onto the street and into the sewer openings that line the boulevard
I have been spending my time looking for patches of sunlight to spend my time.
When I find them I settle in and smile when the warmth kisses my cheek.
I have been doing so well.
Do you feel me here like I feel the friendly damp of east meadow?
Yesterday I walked down Madison Avenue.
My hair was still dripping from the salon and I felt important.
I dread the changing of the season.
Maybe it will surprise me with sweetness.
Winter is the antithesis of the things that make up my skin,
but light from new friends has already warmed me from the inside out.
I want to throw up from the vivacity of it all. I am sensitive to the colors and their noises for the first time since utero.
On the days you feel
like you can only see
through your eyes,
go and sit by the window.
I am telling you this because
it took me a long time to learn.
Let the sun warm you through the pane
and let the words leave you like breath.
it cuts the tops of my hands
and chokes the colors in my throat.