recent observations, may.

borrowed light, swooning tulips, and fake refrigerators.

Two days of a rooftop hot enough to fry an egg,

my toes,

the balls of my feet.

Relief on the fire escape steps.

Office of Rent Administration Factsheet #26

They photoshopped the mold away—

plugged AI appliances into a beat-up kitchen,

beamed computer-generated sunshine into a windowless bedroom,

stretched wide-angle shots past breaking.

Squirrels scrabbling above a pressed tin ceiling.

A window pane slumping out of its frame.

Splayed open tulips swooning through iron fences—

diving head-first toward the kitchen table.

Four of swords, turned upside down.

Office of Rent Administration Factsheet #5.

They boarded up the interior windows—

took away the borrowed light.

What if everything’s a little bit worse?

What if everything’s a little bit better?

Write it down.

Whisper it into the wind.