the bullets fly and ricochet

Fight or flight?

I realized something last night.

It's in those quiet hours when only the crickets and late night lovers communicate.

where the planes announce their presence across the light polluted sky.

I left my honeycomb studio with some aimless urgency

keys in hand
phone on the bed

as I always do when I feel it in my gut

windows down
sunroof off
heat blasting high

Driving without direction, I usually get on a freeway and just go. I tend to get lost on purpose, take an exit I've never traveled.

but I almost always end up at sea.

My mind is pretty empty through this process, just feeling the present moment

crisp breeze
the smell of the night air
heat on my arms
parked cars
homeless huddled in heaps
orange lights
stoic trees
engine humming some sort of lullaby

By the time I get back to bed, I'm left feeling a little bit better, but mostly bitter that "I just wasted a bunch of gas to go to the fucking beach at night alone."

but then I heard it.

I heard the bullets fly and ricochet.

They called out, "Are you listening to us? Figure it out, we're giving you the space and time to process this."

So here I am
sitting
typing
processing

and I think it's helping.