Didn’t have AC last night. Almost hugged the service man when the the energy kicked in after school and the beads of sweat crawling like slow insects down my spine gathered and cooled. Ate calavasa and avocados out of my favorite tupperware bowl (washed and re-washed). Walked to the store that's half a block away and forgot, again, to buy a can opener. Ran out of juice early. Went to three shows in the last four days, sore but smiling. Lost my voice from screaming the words, tears burning at the back of my eyes, and this life that's pounding it’s fists in the center of my chest.
This coffee shop is blaring music from the counter and both of the baristas are chatting about their studio spaces, something about this punk show or that exhibit, new tattoos and watercolor brushes. I am laughing with the old man sitting next to me about the way our knuckles brush when we reach for the napkins, wiping the foam from our lips, and he smiles like a secret’s being told. This afternoon waiting for my bus, hands rubbing together to ward off the cold, a stranger to my right extended her umbrella for me but didn’t say a single word.
I speak the language of this city, and there are hidden parts of me opening up, like a new door or wind coursing quickly, quickly, this way.
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