Hono'

A city imagined is like the line where rainfall beginsa beggar with open palms, cupped, drawn to his mouth as if drinkingwatching the surf brink on the edge of madnessa man returning from skydiving on his 80th birthdaythe way lust knows no boundariesthe way it dissipates like blood in watercompleting dropping facade and innuendo a phone call from Honolulu so she knows how much he carestheir dramatic differencesand how little they matter in the endperpetual motiontheir biggest issuelike metal fragments magnetized to find one anotheras long as the distance is not too greatputt offs and objectionsrecognized as such and negotiated aroundbreaking human relations into formulas and liesheld in suspension like moonlightor how fog can mask a skyscraper in minutesacross a rooftop bar in a light drizzlewondering if your heart would give out before hitting pavementsquabbles over moneywrong turns and bad directionswhistles from teenage boyslaughing at your tiny swimsuitthe way your hips hurt after stumbling like a drunk in the sandquietly retchingthe stomach unable to absorb water without mineral contentpoor decisions in a moment of boastfulnesslonging for the luxuries of childhoodfrequently recounting in order to not forget (them)pride in his white t-shirtswashed twice a week in hot water and bleachboxes of half-stories and unwritten correspondencefavorite memories staring out of car windowsthe way the wind lets you feel every strand of hairresolve but no closure found in over night drunksscreaming excited delusions into the windthe timidness of birdsa certain way of smiling at a good friendhow the drugs you're on tell you not to do themconsistentlybut you have to keep doing them to rememberlike the sound of the first song chosen halfway through a journey