And Blam

The summer heat is over (wethinks) but the heat of the city is ever-raging. I won’t bore you with verbal fights I overheard on the subway, the clack-clack of red patent-leather heels at the end of mile-long legs on the concrete, the weight of laundry in my arms, as if it is the world and I am Atlas (or a tremendous drama queen, either/or).

The e-mails of long-lost loves and the people who come and go. The work to be done and the work now accomplished. The collective presence of 8 million people and counting in a small space, relatively. I feel an odd sense of presence tonight, as if the earth is moving at exactly the right speed, and I am moving, for once, at the same speed as it.

Done now.