Sunday, July 15, 2012

Friday Night/Saturday Morning in Brooklyn

Dominican Republic flags hang from wires that cross the rugged pavement below.  A mix of merengue & salsa plays in my mind, but not in the world outside my head.  The sun slowly creeps over the shoulders of the sky, like an assassin moving in for the kill.

I'm new to this experience but it feels equal parts surreal & cliche.  An after party...after the underground club, brings forth a gathering on the rooftop.  I suddenly realize that I've made my way from subterranean areas like the subway & clubs, far below 'ground level' to the rooftops of Brooklyn, practically tasting the sky upon my lips.  Far too susceptible to vertigo from the heights of this gothic landscape, I choose not to dangle my legs over the ledge, selecting a folding chair to be my vantage point.  The experience is far different than the various scenarios my imagination created since my adolescence, for it's tangible & dangerous.

Drunken souls discuss the hard truth consequences of a base jump from the roof top, immediately followed by the outlandish posits of jumping from rooftop to rooftop.  A part of me fears the inebriated adventurer.  One that fails to realize the limits of one's delusions of invincibility (especially lubricated on alcohol), but a larger part of me knows it's not likely to happen.

Yet in still, here we sit, waiting to greet the sun.  "Home" @ least for the moment, is 3/4 of mile away, & I feel like breakfast & a brisk walk is in order, better yet, oh so necessary.

All that I see is illuminated.  A new day has dawn, with more promise than I have ever known before.

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