Every day I want to be there, slide down into depravity with you all. Man the sinking ship and maybe get drunk once or twice. Heave ho and torch the place a little when you have to leave. All that slick sweetfire jazz that aches in the belly, that weakens the knees. Opportunity moved, somebody followed with it, dying every tuesday that they can’t see my face.
The city heights scrape stormflesh from the eager sky. I walked downtown yesterday and suddenly looked up as I walked, my eyes glued to navy blue. This sky is our only sky, it is large and vast and immeasurable. The wild cloak we unrepentantly breathe into our bodies every last minute. Virus are known to be immortal, this breath was a breath that Mozart sneezed back out, his lungs rejecting it. There is always a last minute, but not for the immutable sky.
This hangs over your head too, you know.