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.