(Letters to my brothers and others) March 2005 to May 2007. |
11-6-05 The rain became bullets so I Chapsticked my shoes and drove my feet to you. Umbrella charmless, in a windstorm; I know you have no sympathy. I smoked it on the way. Grab a blanket; turn out the lights (if the electricity failure hasn't). There's nothing safer than you tonight. But God knows it ain't right. And I know it ain't right. The wind threw fallen leaves through my closed windows. My curtains opened into my sinew. I paused like The Reniassance to enjoy my severance. This public weather destruction mimics my own incarceration. Stormy like you wouldn't believe, but believe it! Please, miss me! Click on the heat, click up the speakers; bolt the doors and windows. The rain is coming like it does on tv and I want you to see me. This is not as bad as you but we need something to talk through. The sirens came through it as my lights flickered. I figure at best it's over, and at worst it's just beginning. When the wind is tackling; when the pavement meets the knees; when the bodies are sailing; there's seldom time for hellos and goodbyes. I'm not named after a girl, but I'm a city and I know it's not about to be pretty. |