spring in the city
I slipped outside into the alley for a walk in the neighborhood.
The stretch of alley and apartment buildings that lies between me and the distant street side feels like a hallway to hell. I leap and bound my way over a flowing stream of dog urine (to which my own contributes routinely), the Sun’s pressure to provoke sends steam rising from the pavement. I run past the dungeon of doom that is the dumpster to make my way into the crack of the neighboring apartment units. The crack narrows, gradually, the entrance guarded by a pit of flies. If hell doesn’t have its grip on me I may submit this torture as the scene of its next monologue. I duck my head, hold my breath, and with eyes that are closed, dash — making my way through the swarm. I keep my head ducked to dodge air conditioners, furiously blowing droplets of dirty AC air into my path. My eyes remain closed, the absence of sight pondering the absence of reality, and speed up my pace while the swirl of it chases me, my feet clutched in the hands of sinking sand — the world around me disappears in my fret.
The other side emerges and so does a pool of fresh air, splashing over me. My heart settles, and so does the Sun as the night begins to turn to dusk. The flowers sit out in bloom, perching at the Sun, holding onto what’s left of its warmth. The trees vibrate in colorful dreams of green. I hear the scatter of wildlife amongst the bushes lining the sidewalks as we walk the streets, the fallen leaves coming to life. The neighborhood homes liven the streets with pops of color that hadn’t seemed to exist before; spring flowers lining the house edges, setting them aglow. I feel the world coming to life around me. I can feel myself coming to life.
Change is in effect.
Spring is in the air.
