Fractions

The rain is doing that thing it does where it comes in and cuts the heat into fractions. It’s the relief we were praying for but I don’t feel any different yet do you? Just a dampness that starts in my toes and travels from the ground up. I place a bet against myself that I can make it back to 8th Avenue before it really starts to pour. But isn’t it a foolish thing to bet against the sky or anything else we can’t control?


I don’t want to talk about the last time I changed my sheets and started fresh. Not because the time that’s passed is anything significant but because it hurts to think about mundane rituals running out of air to breathe. I counted the days left on the calendar and it didn’t take so long. What I mean is that it’s only a matter of time until every pale pink sheet I own is folded down into rectangles into squares into brown paper boxes left for pick up. There’s nostalgia in the act, wall to skin bending my body to match each corner for corner. Will I really miss my window to nowhere? The smell trapped between the hallway and the vestibule. The neighbor with their lights on?


I promise you I’m clean I can prove it if that’s what you’re standing here waiting for. Three short showers a day let’s sit and compare mine to yours do you have anywhere to be? It’s stickier than you might remember but you’re stuck in a dry heat so you’ll have to take my word for it. I can remind you what it feels like to swim down sidewalks and watch your sweat paint the cement darker shades of grey. I’m trying to forget the extra loop we took around my cul de sac but now that you bring it up it’s all I can think about. You turned the radio down to make room for the sound of my shallow breathing, the noise your filtered air made streaming through the tiny vents lining your windshield. Did you know silence could sing like that?