When the skies go gray.

After two decades of living in this shitty city of mine I start to hate the day-in-day-out. The skies go gray too often.

I don’t know if it’s the mid-atlantic weather, or the fog of lies that emanates from this chocolate city’s marshmallow center that makes it all so bleak. Sometimes I think its the people. Too many of them are depressing, whether it is by nature or example.

The smart ones get out when they can. The stupid ones fight to get here. Hollywood for ugly people, they call it.

I walk past the hospital to the corner store, the hospital I was born in. Two decades and I’ve moved barely a hundred yards. Sirens punctuate the spanish songs as they scream by on the left. People don’t even know how to get out of the way here. The problem isn’t the terrain, or the lack of society. The problem isn’t the shade of the sky or the wail of the ambulance. No, at the end of the day the problem is us, still walking to the corner store to pick up some cheap food or booze, the little distractions on the long gray road.

I gotta get out of this place.


1 Comment

  1. If it’s the last thing you ever do!

    You should come to Ann Arbor. It’s great.

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