piece of something large.

Common estrangement, suspended in apartment during day, a rare bird flapping wings no longer, the writer perched in cage locked away from high-pitched city. Out of action, hearing another life held at great distance, droning drum dog barks owner awake, I listen, bristles back and forth against sidewalk, painting streets gold in light, artist crouching over masterpiece, fashioning modern myth Claude and Christine canvas of obsession, Zola shake my hand! autobiography prints anything we touch. Ears trying to see, a writerly trait, the talented tell as if never separated, details deform the fact, you know decorations detract from the real, embellishments confuse the simple, are you confused? Don’t let yourself be, stop exchanging sense with reason, listen, listen, I sound like you, conscious crisscrossing dividing clarity, listen, it is real, this is the closest truth.

I have come to reclaim it dream my Manhattan, to see to know to feel it all then more. Undeniable difficulty, living alone, anonymous, new to class no think grander! city, the big picture, I am Waldo, will never be found on streets where no one knows names, seeing faces, they tell you a past but they are not what they seem, who one was now is because of that, cannot be caught, elusive, such difficulty being alone in a city where no one knows who I am, won’t ask why, things changing everyday is not an excuse, I want you to know bits pieces, stay put I will bring forth everything. Moving, stop! wandering same like me New Yorkers stand still sit here, it is raining? let me take you inside. Walking walking walking over me, “it was just a suggestion!” why won’t anyone talk? does music need pulled out from ears? I will do it! just to be looked in eyes, crash computer chips on pavement, powder you’ll think and blow, programmed addict is that what these bodies speeding by are?