Friday, November 2

Driving home in the midnight light, stars bright above us and the moon a yellow shock behind Stage Fort. Every other car is a cab or a cop. Drive through the Fort, to find the moon again.

My city at night. It is quieter after I drop Jane off, up over Beacon Street and onto Washington. The cabs are driving like there are no lines and the streets are empty. The night shines down on City Hall. On Main Street. On the steamy laundromat on Maplewood Ave.

I miss you.

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