the day is too bright. i watch a few odd moments unfold around me. a weird type of magic everywhere. not good magic not bad magic just weird. would you like to dance with me? sure, but i only know how to dance the salsa. it’s okay. it’s okay. pensive tiptoes i slide past the crinkling and crumbling and the bus rushes by throwing my hair into my mouth against my dry lips. why is there nowhere in this town to sit and hold a little moment of peace, hold it in my thinly rolled cigarette. i think i find one then look up to see a black security camera watching me. how can a november day like this be so bright? how have i fallen so far away from everyone i know i am connected with? i suppose it is more correct to say i just imagine i am connected with them but no, no i want to say i know it. how are the trees standing so straight upright, today, today especially. i have outgrown too much of this. i am watching the fates of others gather around them, fulfilling themselves. my mother. and i watch it with some type of comfort thinking something like that could never happen to me but maybe it already has, ha. cups of coffee the small centers of my days. my favorite thing on earth lately is watching the silver gelatin papers develop in the chemical baths, an image slowly growing onto the blank white paper as i push it side to side in the tub; that is magic, an image fading into it’s fate, and i am no creator but merely the guide for the vessel.
