sunset at 4pm

a year of walking around the big city. suddenly it’s below freezing everyday but the sun won’t go away and the snow doesn’t come. the past few months have been filled with this extreme hypertension of waiting, then nothing, then almost. my horoscope says it’s the supermoon in Gemini and i won’t have to wait much longer. go into the room and sing in advance, it says. this time of year feels plastic, stuck in between dimensions of the stillness of air and the fact that something is happening every night of the week. going out to a late show on a monday.  listening to the raisa k album between bedford and first ave. on the little man-made island in chelsea people are taking photos of new jersey like it’s a premonition of heaven. the heaviness extends everywhere. my friend says ‘I think sometimes u romanticize the world u live in so much it clouds u from seeing other things.’ a lot of us are still doing the same thing as a decade ago. my coworker is complaining about how songs from the year before are in everyone’s year end lists. time is just a construct and yet a form of belonging. when you’re so much in a world that there is nothing else without it. not knowing is the new knowing. dry shampooing my hair at funny bar. haunted by the glamazon skyscrapers of fidi where it’s like, sometimes the fantasy is the whole point. all polyester fit in the underworld.  i reach my hand to touch the surface and it reverberates across the country.  a spell that runs in circles.  all blue across the sound.