Strange Times

Life has taken ahold of me, a strong, merciless hold that exhausts me. By the time I get home, all I want to is peel the day away and lay face down on my bed. The tv lights flicker, bluish, turning my skin pallid. I don’t mind because this feels like home.
I leave tomorrow for San Francisco, I wish I could melt the essence of that city into a drug and inject it right into my veins. Collapse them with China Town, high on Van Ness, flashing back all over Russian Hill. The addiction of street names, of suburbs, of the train and the smell of wet sparks igniting on the tracks.
Kiss me good-bye, I will be back far too soon.