blacktutu

document 1. may 17th. "if this is how it starts how hard is the rest going to be?" may 18th passes.  so does june 22nd. in the time between and after, I am left only with my birds and the rain and it rains all the time. august 7th.  I can no longer hear the geiger-counter clicking of the gutters over the echoes of crows and car horns, though the mud that devours my shoelaces each morning tells me the storm still hits while I'm asleep. november 24th and even the pigeons have gone.  buildings boarded up, graffiti all over my car. nothing shiny left for them to shit on. january 6th now-- eight

               Tommy had spent much of his Saturday off following a girl around the town. In retrospect, it sounded a good deal more deranged than at the time. He was only trying to see her face. He had, by that point, decided that he was possibly in love with her, hypnotised by the cascade of long, straight, black hair that swayed in time with the motion of her body. He was sure there would be an explosion if they met, sending their neutrons spraying throughout the city, all sacrificed for the uncontrollable passion that would ignite the second their eyes found their way to each other.               Except that she had his back to him, and