Tag: city

Nature Is Nice, But 3AM Cheesesteaks Don’t Grow On Trees (aka Urban Disassociation)

A city is a machine that makes escape necessary, for calm that has the kind of quiet you’re afraid to disturb. Tall grass and stubby elms stretched close as the eyes could see, and far as New York pavement can afford. I walk briskly…

Hope (aka It Takes 21 Days To Break A Habit, and 42 If They Text You Back)

“Do you know what poisons cows?” He asked. A plastic bag rustled between the long limbs of an old and wrinkling tree. Two paper coffee cups tumbled down the street, their plastic lids clinking against the grey drum of a bubble gum strewn sidewalk…

Landmines Are Inherently Self Destructive (So Watch Your Step Around Me)

A breath full of ash that reeks of rum and cigarette butts all pointed the same direction. I don’t know the way home, and if I did, I’d follow the opposite road like a north star. The night is young and cruel as school…

Ms. Behaving Taught Me Better Than Politeness Ever Could

It’s cold, so women start to put the sandals away and whip out the fur hoodies and finger-less gloves.  Your #MCM’s caesar haircut fades into a fitted cap, cuffing season hashtags, two-button trench-coats, and fuck-it-every-other-day-I’ll-shave Winter stub. Five o clock shadows look more natural…

Whatever Doesn’t Kill You May Just Like To Watch You Suffer

“Do you know what poisons cows?” He said. A plastic bag rustled between the trees and three children playing skip-the-cracks across the sidewalk. There was a fruit cart stand, so small and undefinable on that little corner of East Side New York, selling green…

‘Friends With Benefits’ Sounds Like A Health Insurance Plan

Can lovers remain friends? No, but May makes me wonder if there isn’t something else our relationship could settle into apropos. Feelings are pretty sticky in a gross way you would expect, like syrup or childrens hands, and it isn’t often after the playground…

Sigh. Lent.

Today is not a day for words: they evaporated when the sun rose, violet pink and red, this rose sun, melting the day before. They’ve lost all meaning, these words, these words I loved the day before, beating page thumping at my fingertips, pulsing…