July 2022

"cobble hill"

Eventually, I come to a stop on Willow Place just as the rain begins. In what feels like seconds, it’s falling in sheets. For the past few days it has been so hot, every block has felt like its own coiled spring. But with the rain, it all finally unfurls. Seams in concrete, cracks in doors, the spaces between leaves–everything opens up. Secret pockets of the city fill with water. Cave systems flood. I imagine pallid, blind fish springing to life in some forgotten channel between fiber-optic cables and gas lines. For a moment, I wonder where I fit in this world. I think that if I stay here long enough, all these trees will bloom. In fact, I am sure of it. But my clothes are soaked through. I am not meant to stay still.