4.28.13 Cambridge, MA
the conversation ebbs whether or not
we want it to.
blood in the elevator -
on the street. you have seen it all.
and while we know what you mean,
the difference 6 blocks or a river makes
is greater than you think.
the sounds of sirens disconcerting -
as i write these words you walk into the
room toweled, and while i can’t look up
you say - as expected - “so many sirens”
any symphonic emergency alerting us to
the inherent vulnerability - to the defi(n)ed city.
the city that defends itself by its outright refusal
to cease activity - its inability to survive without
please, sir, can’t you just move a bit so we can get by,
the suit asks the EMT, four days after life has
yet again changed as another tired and
troubled youth is saved by a bridge over troubled water.
this is the essence of heartbreak -
the forced momentum,
the self-regulation of meals and phone calls.
the mitigation of the circumstance of a modern life lived -
of a life modernized by living.
days later the elevator is cleaned
and the dog is delivered.