from Jen Blair: Anyway

 Anyway

 

Small-picture living since the pandemic altered, anyway frailties, all-season precipitation and head-on traffic. Days my sky closes in. Days I trust no one but you. Media, content alterations. Different cities, different qualities of light. You among the Trumpian oaks. I attempt proximity by laptop, tablet, phone, your clever voice. Blue glow. Taking turns hard. Anyway transitions. Retellings, recommendations, novels, movies, predictions. You might be interested in branching, in adornment, in the way a clarity of light occupies space between wide streets, boulevards opening like arms. Washed in such light, even a head-on collision, a murder, a motorcade looks pure. Anyway, you looked sharp, the feel-good story, that segment on the local news.