Sad in the city; Anxious sounds
the car is beeping and it just now shut up, but the echoes continue to bounce off the infinitely tall windows of corporate skyscrapers. The breeze parallels from one street to the next, creating a whirlpool of motion around me. Man keeps asking if anyone is selling any extra tickets. Bounce bounce in front of me, the shadow goes. Bland conservative sweater and the eyes of Christ sparkle in its cheap plastic-glitter. My own breathing is heavy, clumps of rice congested in my digestive system, popping like corn in my stomach, rain of hot oil sprinkling my skin inside. Sizzling while I lay in my bed, the heat trapped in my aluminum sheets. Broken analog cracks from the police radio, numbers and numbers and singular words.
My fingers are purple, glowing purple, hazy without the smoke, glowing. Jazz plays electronically, overbearingly, imitating the dotty scratchy records. The smoke appears and the haze grows hazier. Crawling out of a tight slimy tunnel the light peers in, pushing harder in needle position and a swimmer jumps out of the water the arms flap from in front to the sides, a wine opener’s angel wings. The bass drills into the cork of my ears sliding thru the warm waxy butter into my head. Splatter.