Beloveds are always the first thing we see even when we don’t know we’re seeing them. Beloveds seen out of the corners of our eyes.
-New York, New York, 1977
“You launch your voice, it dies away in the vault.”
Last Monday I saw another cement heart in the rain while waiting for my mother to return the rental car. My initials were inside of it. It felt like Sunday all day as I stood in front of that street heart and felt outside of it.