or not

It was a gesture, I'm over it. Walking in the rain wearing a perfume called happy. Making a playlist with Fiona Apple's new songs and Bowie's Five Years. Finding the hidden movie screen on the blue stage. Typing with 2% battery left. Wearing tight jeans, thinking about protein. Following a scent, an idea. Smiling at the beautiful old woman in orange stealing cheese. Asking what you mean as I walk on train tracks in Jersey. It's a hunch. There's pages and pages left. I'm wiry and brave. You don't get me, and

it is an honor, to get me.