I feel like I’ve been creeping under dark canopies, wanting to know tomorrow, standing, waiting, between things, beneath them. When I crossed the footbridge, I watched this encounter, and she didn’t like me stealing their parting, so it blurred because I wasn’t brave enough to stare straight through their splitting seam.
New York has been like this lately, skulking through each day, whispering you can’t know me. It’s gathered rain and snow at our feet and sent us inside the caves of umbrellas, forced us into yarned labyrinths of winding scarves.
I’ve been dreaming many new things. I’ve been wanting to unravel them all. I’ve wondered, too often, over the years, what’s next for me?