INTO THE EMERALD CITY:
The stink, the heat, the proximity of unfamiliar body parts.
Standing on slow trains, breathing secondhand breath, rocking to
a discordant rhythm, footfall grooves broken by the ragged cracks
of grease stained pavements, queueing for time. The going in is ok.
The being there is a buzz. It’s the slow, grinding process of leaving
that suck the life out of me. Chin up.