The Milky Way, the source of the Hudson River, that leads down to NYC, where, just a couple days ago, a body washed up on the shores of Brooklyn, the city’s most populous borough.
Sea as burial, shore as graveyard, savagely & suddenly. The trap beats enter the moment you look behind you to see if someone’s been following you. Keys rattle; footsteps patter; branches clatter; doors clink; stair-steps clunk. A voice, from behind a door behind another door. A guitar-player out on the fire-escape. A girl laughing, then crying.
A phone, ringing, but you can’t answer it.
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