My brain has dragged a thought into the traffic jam, daring it to run into the street beneath cables dangling from junction boxes either sucking up misplaced electricity, or stretched like clotheslines on the verge of fraying. Who can see that and not feel fear, the room spinning as it mocks the motion inside your head, synapses weakening, misinterpreting orders. What is your migraine against the chaos of the dying city? Nobody admits that if your neighbor’s stealing your current, he probably can’t pay his rent either, though his life may lurch forward into the zigzag oncoming, slippery with rain.

My brain has dragged a thought into the traffic jam, daring it to run into the street beneath cables dangling from junction boxes either sucking up misplaced electricity, or stretched like clotheslines on the verge of fraying. Who can see that and not feel fear, the room spinning as it mocks the motion inside your head, synapses weakening, misinterpreting orders. What is your migraine against the chaos of the dying city? Nobody admits that if your neighbor’s stealing your current, he probably can’t pay his rent either, though his life may lurch forward into the zigzag oncoming, slippery with rain.