we took off all our clothes on top of nick’s roof last night, kind of drunk but mostly just in love. the sultry city air hung in sopping swells between the bricks & treelimbs & traffic lights, connecting everything by unconquerable phantom-dusk. we dragged up some beers and a couple blankets that didn't smell like cat-piss and we fell asleep under the electric wasabi green of the midtown sign.
"midtow" it said, because the giant "n" had burned out.
in the morning the world looked very thin and blue until the sun rose and stung the world. we were roused by the terrible shrieking of brakes & a dull thump. we scrambled to the ledge to see the smash, nick shouting, "fuck you asshole" in a silly voice.
the lady in the crumpled car opened her door in a huff. she had tight curly hair and high-waisted pants. she looked kind of bruised but i don’t know. the man who hit her walked slowly. he was younger. he wore khakis. a policeman walked towards the scene, broad shouldered and important. we burst out laughing. from above we were shiny gods, peering down with disdain on the lilliputian populace on the corner of lake & chicago.
You Shall Know Our Velocity