Elizabeth Reddin is a writer who lives in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.
In the dark this isnt the same. I cant plan out before I get to you what it will be when we meet. Is this a meeting, you sitting here and I having been sitting. It isnt that were conversing, just changing seats
I don’t know how people in charge keep their faces forward, or the ones with guns in their hands, how they keep them up. They must never get a long enough break to think; or even get to dream.
I would stay up all night. I hate rejection. Dont tell me I didnt say no. Who were the ones you couldnt get rid of. Who did you honor and for what. How is a slap for not honoring your mother. You wished for someone elses. You write again what was the day before.
This is the beginning of one hundred days. It is wrong, when to say no nothing happens, yes nothing happens in the head of one building or one sidewalk. At the top of a generation all things fall over the edges and some will give each one a way of saying. It cant be you are missing, or that given a slope you react. You cant ask if we are wanting you; all of we is a silent tall.