A fast, flickering, collage of images
flashes back and forth from one another.
I’m crossing the Zakim bridge in Boston, and I’m met with a large crowd of people at its center. They are all waiting to get on a water ride of the log flume sort that lifts you up to the top of the bridge’s cable supports, and then plunges you down into the Charles River.
A cat sits outside my window at night meowing.
I am on the east coast at a loved one’s funeral, an event I thought I wouldn’t be able to attend.
I have built a home for myself in a complex net of steel beams underneath a highway overpass. Someone knocks at my door.
I get into the log and we begin to descend to the top of the bridge.
When the cat realizes I’m ignoring it, it beings to meow louder.
Everyone at the funeral is drinking.
My door is broken down and I need to escape. I break through a wall and swing like a monkey down the jungle of beams to the ground where I begin to run.
I can see all of Boston - from the North End to the lights of Fenway - sitting atop the Zakim bridge. Its daytime during the summer. The ride hurls us toward the water. Everyone screams.
The cat is frustrated. Its meow mutates into a woman’s scream.
Bar fight at the funeral.
I run as fast as I can.
We hit the water and sink to the bottom of the Charles. Blogger Molly McAleer from The Molls Show waits for us at the bottom. She’s hotter in real life.
