Movement

V. One Hundred and Eighty Main Street

oh! i am sixteen and three quarters years old, the sky is grey and muddy and the air tastes like electricity all of a sudden.

the window on my side of the mini van is cracked the slightest bit open so i can feel the raindrops catch in my hair: i am coming i am coming i am coming and and i am also going

the exit on the four ninety five tells me Andover is just Two Whole Miles away, and it feels as if holy hell is breaking out in my head.

lightning wrapped up in my left pocket, cell phone in my right, and i realize that finally i am the big kid Katie told me about –

and all i want is a plastic shock blanket