i thought love was this substance inconstant like cocaine, source of irregular beating and even death but today when i thought about the people i love i felt warm like my heart held kinetic energy, like the beating was an okay tempo and i was home no matter where i was or how far i would ever go

the sun is forgiving. it keeps your blood moving even when you are cold and distant, even when you are shady and cruel and forget how to be okay in your own pale skin. today was a day i existed in. i ate and slept and listened to the radio and missed a bus and caught a bus and walked through a neighborhood i knew and felt like maybe i’d made it, for now, season finale.

nothing surprises me. i read articles about how unsurprising donald trump’s rise is and, i read articles about gender and riot grrls and artists like louise bourgeois and sylvia plath and merrill garbus whose deep & eery insight into the human condition includes fantasies of eating flesh and i shudder but nothing surprises me and americans are looking for happiness harder than maybe anyone else.

life is the cat that won’t you let you sleep in too late and steps on your delicate bones, solid weight, asking for love, then food, then sleep, then food. life is the tension between being in sweaty motion and holding still. life is the parkour class you agree to go to with a girl and the giant harp you watch a dancer play her whole body one friday night. life is the gray skies that let you wrap yourself in blankets until the sun finds it way back to you. love is a substance inconstant like cocaine, but it surprises you sometimes with how easy it is.


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