We watched the bee diein the shadeand on the sidewalk sun cut throughin the usual ways. A tiny garden in a boxa kid went WHACK to. Now it’s rainingthe city’s busy uninventing taxisI mean that’s New York, I mean.Walking home I thought about saying“when a person dies…”but somebody already did. Just a few days ago.Personally it’s more interestingto live. When I start to feel like“everything” and “nothing”I would like to transport myselfto a great white roomand think O good I can be happy again.Turn on the light look in the mirrorbees pour out of the faucet.That’s not supposed to happen.On the street w/ Brie she asksabout our old life I say You knowI find that really sad. Just days agoG texted me Making sure u have a hotelfor my wedding?? I’m sorry noI won’t be coming and therethe sun beams out of the sky.It transmits these little haiku. Like stay / inside a lot / rain might come.That wasn’t one of them.But it felt that way and how aboutwhen Schuyler says “The smell of snow…I am not suicidal”I think maybe he is. Was.Wake up there’s no more sunWhite ceiling / my favorite cloud.