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a snake in a field of grass. a lost bull. symbols distorted. intuition mixing with fear. a non-sign as a sign :: the spectrum between nonsense & parody. the life that lives in the backs of taxicabs. death by romance. tequila tremors. disjointed lists. a man doing the splits. a man losing his hair. a man juggling. two bridges two tunnels two chairs. two shoes with untied shoelaces. two minds lost at the front. the sludge of cranium against knuckle. a woman set ablaze. a tub of lard. a book discarded. a narrowing eye. an audit of intentions. and above all, a knowing.

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On the F train back to Brooklyn from Central Park, it hits me— the synchronicity of it all.

Behind each date, each scramble of numbers, each eyelash-11:11-birthday wish, my definition of love itself: a choice, a surrender, & _____. Here I stand, between where I’ve been and where I’m going, and if I think about it—if I really squint my eyes—there isn’t a choice at all, but an inevitability.