done Thursday night on my way to SF, edited today
Dirty train window. Sad song about fear and love, “Gypsy.” Not as sad as before.
City. Orange fireball. White smoke stretching up like cobras dancing out of basket. Oakland trees. Me all great hair and glossy lips.
Then the song that used to make me sob, “Sara.” About the end of love and hope.
But neither is dead.
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