Tonight no one wants to stop their car. At every red light I lean towards the lane of incoming traffic, hoping if struck to roll off the hood. Feel oddly visible, like someone has noticed something—perhaps only I have, and that’s being read by everyone else. Last night we drove on fumes through the low trees. Made three right turns. When I got out at the OnRoute and shouted your name the woman walking next to you started and ran to her car. A nervy rabbit or a guilty conscience. Why is it I feel such exhaustion? A full fridge wherever I go. On the drive back I said it was “satisfaction.” Caught on video exiting the house. Delete it before I pass on the password. (No good reason: I’d send it to you if I thought I looked attractive.) I’d like to corral whatever I’m feeling now—I mean tonight, walking in loops. Passing from one side of the city to another. The air has a particular quality, clear and cool. Everything is done growing but it hasn’t begun to fall back. The city is empty. But the streets are full. Why ever leave bed. 

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