under

At the Muddy Cup. A pearly white cat asleep on my brown velvet jacket on a red velvet chair. A hot patch on my back in pain from running out on the flood with bags swung over my shoulders and zipping into the city, sleeping in Carmen's bed, surrounded by vivid paintings of old movies, Brazil, angry babies. My bed creeks on its bricks. A new friend calls me "assertive" but doesn't run away. Some part of me keeps my eye on San Francisco from across the country. Teenagers in chairs by the window break their world down into who knows "Jason" or "Amanda" and what they did when. Ambition is just a paste over the truth, which is a green glass diamond found under a yellow chair in the basement.