Sometimes 6

Sometimes we drive into a new city and all we see are the stories that we have heard.

Sometimes we try to take the city for what it is but we have no idea how to do that for more than a second at a time.

Sometimes the city is quieter than usual or busier than usual

Sometimes what the city is not what we see 

Sometimes the brief moment that we spend with the city is not enough

Sometimes our judgment is not broad enough or deep enough or caring enough to hold a city

Sometimes we pay $7.47 for a large oat milk Matcha latte and we get handed a 120z. Not a 16oz.

Sometimes we say it’s OK

Sometimes we walk away and hold it against the city

Sometimes there are unsaid feelings in our relationships that seem so far away from us

Sometimes we go back

Sometimes we welcome us back

Sometimes we say it’s OK and we make a latte 

Sometimes we don’t bring up the person who was killed in the city but we still want to see the place where we died

Sometimes thanksgiving doesn’t happen in the place you expected

Sometimes there’s a long list of important people who we could call and meet and slowly tell them about the things we think are important but that list of important people doesn’t  feel that important when we’re passively arguing with our friend about the best way to start a fire

Sometimes we’re sitting in a parked car talking to our family and our car pulls up two feet in front of us and stops

Sometimes we look at the house with Mexican workers loading up their trucks and then we pull away

Sometimes we wonder why we stop and pull away

Sometimes we are out of context

Sometimes we don’t know where streetsmart judgments social contexts and racialized biases begin or end but damn that was sketchy

Sometimes we slow down and stop to see the address of a place we might buy or rent in a neighborhood in which we appear out of context

Sometimes where we are cannot be found on a map