Zucchini:
I’ve fallen in love with Brooklyn, and the risky, yellow ledges of subway platforms, and the way a small letter of light emerges out of darkness to whisk me away, if I want, to the island of bankers and foodies. A village of monarchs flickers in my knees. Everyone kisses in airports, but I prefer hotel lobbies. All we want is the pure speed of our hands pressing through the years, and occasionally, scrambled eggs at midnight. When I gaze into her full-throated eyes, she will not apologize for learning to sing as men fell from her skies like popped balloons.
Major Jackson
