So much talk about the weather. Can make a brain go numb. Almost made my brain go numb. Grey skies in May like maybe the world is coming to an end. We sound so worried. I wonder how much of it is talk to fill the silence. I do it too it’s okay. I told him about my chest. It hurts down the middle, across my ribs. Like it had in December, like it had in March. I showed him the spot. Maybe it’s fear disguised as pain. He asked me what’s been going on like maybe that would help him to draw a map. The map to somewhere far from where we were. It’s been hard to breathe on the 2 train. Inside my tiny room. At the corner of North 11th and Driggs. Over the bridge. But they used to make me feel good so which came first. The feeling or the place? How could a stranger find the source. You’re from LA? I told him no not really. Talking about the traffic made the pang resurface. Something about how he could never live in Los Angeles. There it was again. Sharp and shooting. He scribbled down a few ideas. Two times a day for fourteen days or however long it took to make the feelings subside. They’d be ready by 5.
