Night Driving

these months smell of the last drops of summer, a solid steady weight curled beneath the ribs like a dream or an alleycat. something captured here in such tenderness, the final prayer of heat before autumn comes again - &, even more aching, the last summer i'll have in singapore before i leave for university. there is so much space to fill, & i'm doing my best to settle into that well-worn openness.

do you know the feeling that comes over you on a very long car ride home, late at night, when the radio is dreaming in a colour that never hurt anything & so few other cars light the streets that you might almost mistake them for stars, & you come through your door & brush your teeth & fall into bed & the next morning you wake & it feels as if all that happened last night was a dream, just a soundless precious invisible dream? some days i think my entire stay here in singapore, these ten glorious & sweat-drenched years were nothing but a dream. like i might wake any moment in a bedroom in dallas or minneapolis or chicago & wonder at how odd it was that i ever thought these hours, these fraying & blurred & endless rearview skies might be real.

for now, summer dissolves like a cherry cough drop on the tongue, as it always does, as it always will. we are so close to something, & i hope it is something good. i'm eating at hawker stalls & calling taxi drivers uncle & letting stray cats nestle beneath my ribs & stepping over each crack in the sidewalk like perhaps it might make the days flow a little slower. light wanes into evening & i'm trying not to fall asleep in the back of this car, trying not to form too many question marks, trying not to say too many words. i hope i wake up tomorrow & i am still here. i hope, on the tomorrow when i wake up & am not still here, i don't for one moment doubt this was real, this was real, this was all so breathlessly gorgeously carelessly persistently singularly brilliantly unforgettably real.


p.s. what are you holding onto these days? what don't you want to forget?
p.s.s. let it be & the anchoring & love letters for more