Hey remember that summer when that the south was drowning and the west was burning and we couldn't go to michigan like we were supposed to because the little buds that need these last weeks of summer to grow were freezing to death under the unexpected early frost? It was all happening. All at the same time. Simultaneity was my first favorite big word. Remember when the ash from the flames made our nasal cavities drain and our throats go raw and I spent the unreturnable hours of my precious PTO holed up in obscure coffee shops reading LCD Soundsystem lyrics while listening along to the new album grateful for that at least [“oh baby oh baby you’re having a bad dream”]. Maybe I don’t remember the 3am phone call right, telling me not to get on the plane, it was so early. A category five storm is coming for our home and you have to get the kids and the animals and the generators out of town — don’t I know how long the lines for gas get even 120 hours before landfall. Don’t I know how the sound gets sucked out of the atmosphere the day before the storm hits the warm water in the atlantic and speeds up before it slows down. Don’t I know how people can get by then.
Hey remember how people who are normally afraid of drowning are also afraid of not because those agents that have been outside their kids schools for weeks now have the right to pick them up when they think they’re too brown to belong in this part of town? It happened to what’s her name in the old neighborhood. It’s all happening. All at the same time. I hope we don’t let it all burn like those other people on TV hope we do. I hope we don’t all drown like some people say they don’t care if they do. I hope the ash doesn’t make my voice so hoarse you can’t hear me when I scream for all of this to stop slow down slow down cause we’re out here and it’s all getting closer and we need help.