I don’t want to convene in a room with fluorescent lighting and compare journal entries based on a prompt some failure handed out,
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Shortly after the lackluster hugs that initiate our reunion,
we decide to walk the Brooklyn Bridge.
I describe what the Bridge looked like during the Uprising—
the cops, the chants, the clashes.
They don’t ask any follow-up questions.
Maybe finally his palette will display this new neon life
gifted him in spite of his constant yearning,
and allow him to plant his bare feet on the land
of his birth,
Tired of doing nothing in self-isolation
I kill time by looking at a traditional
Chinese painting on my iPad
dim light of my phone screen
flickering orange and away from orange
the same as the waves in person the waves as pixels
It’s bothersome, how I can’t think
And live at the same time.
They tell me I am not perfectly well yet,
Which is hard to hear when you are keen on perfection.
Suspension bridge set to burst
Before the in-bound tank procession
Stories carried in the air
From under the rubble.
Scrubbing a burner, I begin transcending
Through the ceiling, through the stratosphere
Through space and time,