I’ve watched it happen before my eyes.
But this time is different-
this time I am dreaming into existence a future for myself, one that takes place in a city between the dead and the living-
a place where something about the rain sends shivers down my spine
and I can finally feel the blood running through my veins and know that
I exist in more than the no-name town I have grown to resent.
The familiarity is sickening; I need something more.
East village or Brooklyn, I would think.
Where my great grandmother spent her final years would be ideal, but I’ll take what I can get and
I can see you there.
I can see us there.
The blood in my veins is that of strong women who existed between the dead and the living
they knew how to live
and I intend to do them justice.