dim_lights anno_salutis the city is struggling because it is succeeding beyond anything it ever asked for or planned. men without legal jobs circle one another on street corners and bump off of one another in codes not picked up by the errant tourists looking for trouble or walking between attractions. a woman wears a garbage bag. i step into a bar out of the rain. you're sitting there alone, the bartender acknowledges me but doesn't ask what i want. after some strange silence we talk for a bit. hours later, at your apartment i ask you about your open marriage. you dim the lights your hair finds my hands your back is taut we both hold our breath we exhale sweat slaloms down the ridge of your back. our thighs squirm and pull into a point. i ask about your open marriage. you tell me this is it. and then i'm back into the streets no one is at home, there is no staying. the city is struggling. i navigate the dim lights. i smell the back of my hand from its base across the top of my index finger, before putting my hands back on the wheel. 150208 what's it to you? who go blather from