Clocking out
Somewhere between worlds
When the work day is done and the time for thinking is over, I leave behind the rising gas prices and dwindling EV mandates, the shuttered consumption sites and officially-definitely-not-corrupt police, the politician who said if it were him he would have shot the guy a few more times. I leave behind the buzzy omakase spot and the complaints about tipping, the derailing transit cars and multiplying potholes, the million-dollar soccer games and disappearing strip clubs. I open the door to some other place; sit on my front steps, listen to the birds chirping. The little ones, I think. They were gone for a while. Now it seems they’re back.