last year in my neighborhood

there were a fistful of anarchists, bus loads of riot squads, and handfuls of photographers/reporters in arsenal park. i grabbed a cup of dark roast coffee, sat on a bench under the 40 street bridge with ben, did two loads of laundry on butler street while wearing black leggings as i watched tear gas fill the air and noise control flooding my eardrums.

i walked down butler street to 52nd street and watched the news on tv. i watched many of my pgh acquaintances walking around mindlessly in this casual walk down butler street. i was a rite aid employee, i watched the news at my "shift supervisors" house as he relentlessly tried to cuddle with me as his kitten relentlessly bit my hands.

now here i am in my penthouse suite, still in lawrenceville.

...still gluing glitter to granola. granola to glitter. and thankfully no longer making out with a late twenties rite aid "shift supervisor" whom often begged for feminine artistic attention. i gave a lot of my drunken nights away to him.