Straight lines of light shoot into the empty sky

There’s no question about “how empty” or “what sky”

It’s the same kind of empty and the same sky that’s always been there

Seen from the greasy window ahead

And here I am, wasting my whiskey on the bar stool

Some creep’s hand around my waist tells me I’m talented

That I should be proud of who I am

Yeah, buddy this drink is strong

Stronger than your pickup lines

Stronger than the eyes of others.

I’m attracted to the waitress because she has nice clavicles

I tell her and we flirt. His hand grips imperceptibly tighter.

When I leave the dive I feel like quanta

Light, that is, traveling in raindrop formation

As opposed to the continuous wave, a river

Light that hits like cool rubber bullets to the eyes and skin

When you’re warmer than your milieu

And you cause evaporation.

Being struck by hard drops of rain-like light

I can climb through the streets immune to the

Penetrating darkness of the downtown limits

Waving my dampened jacket sleeves at erupting columns of light

Facing off the determined oppressor

Turning upwards to collect my release.


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