Return to New York

And now suddenly back in rainy New York; as though the heat wave never happened, as though I skipped from one cool spring day to the next, no orange moon above a Midwestern city, no empty streets with lonely traffic lights, no gathering of souls to open one another, no dining al fresco with only bikers going by.

Back to this city, still in a haze of living within questions and not answers, of saying excuse me, of being happy despite sitting in the last row of the plane, in a window seat without a window, in a chair that cannot recline.  Where is my entitlement?  How did it dissipate in the flat wide streets of emptiness?  Shouldn't I be demanding something better?  Is it safe to let down my guard?

But here I am, for another month and change.  Piecing together wrapping up. Closing in on the concept of space, and otherwise.