cannoli on 5th

on finding god

“Goddamn birds.”

I cursed the chirping fuckers and the 5:45am wake-up call that never got a day off. Cursed the old mentor who suggested I set my alarm to something soothing, get rid of that screeching default blare. “You’re already in a city of loud noises, try waking up to some tranquility. Nature. Like we did at the monastery.”

Sure, okay. Only this isn’t a monastery and I am no monk. No sense in getting worked up about it anymore, I had already decided today would be the last day I’d have to roll the rock up a relentless hill. Sisyphus was clocking out.

i’m so happy cause today i found my friends they’re in my head

I crept out of the bed slowly, light as feather stiff as a board so he could sleep in.

The sound of the bathwater running eased my nerves, filled me with the calm I needed to keep the razor steady. Close your eyes, listen. It sounds just like the ocean. Would they remember I’d want to rest eternally in the Atlantic? I should have written something. Girl couldn’t even leave a letter behind, they’d say. Did Sylvia write a note before she let the fumes take her?

Like Seneca in a warm bath before me, I clutched the razor tight. I was his princess he said, Adriatic royalty. My blood runs blue, see?

*knock knock*

“Coffees ready, cutie. It’s strong, just like you.”

“Oh, coffee. Ok, yeah. Thank you, I’ll be right out.”

Yes. Coffee first. I can slay myself second.

i’m so ugly, that’s okay, cause so are you, broke our mirrors

Bloodbath not in the cards today. That’s alright, I’m a Virgo, a mutable earth sign. There is always the Brooklyn Bridge, holy skies above and New York waters below. I’d take the walk today, no trains. Just me and one last morning view of the skyline. As above so below, little girl.

I tossed my perfectly weathered Italian leather bag on the ground. Won’t need that where I’m going. Need to be weightless for the perfect my swan dive. When she was 3, Maddie asked what the tattooed wings on my back were for. “For flying back home, kid.”

Nabokov’s Laughter in the Dark fell out of the purse, the breeze caressing the weathered pages of the old book. “Her love was of the lily variety.” Hell did he mean, lily variety? Of the… lily variety…

I started flipping pages to find out. Lost in the Russians words. The swan dive could wait.

sunday morning is every day for all i care and i’m not scared

The bridge now too overrun with humanity for my suicidal dreams to take flight, I remembered the “in case of emergencies” bottle of oxycodone at home. The Marilyn stash. My plan C.

One last stop at Gino’s, one last Brooklyn slice. To go, I said.

“Su, can you wait 10 minutes, dollface? We got a fresh pie coming out. Well done, for you.”

“Not today friend, not today.”

“You got something important to do, kiddo?”

“Just something I’ve been meaning to finish up. I’ll take whatever you have. Compliments to the chef and all that.”

The apartment was still with silence, the dull hum of the air-conditioner keeping me company. The pizza box and Marilyn bottle at the ready.

Nestled neatly next to that slice of pizza in perfect pink parchment paper was a cannoli. A little note.

“because you deserve it, on us”

light my candles in a daze cause i’ve found god

My god is the boy who makes me the perfect cup of coffee while I’m in the bath. My god is the city that raised me. My god is the Russian writers who made my little arrhythmic heart slow down. My god is the niece who believed I could fly. My god is the Italian desert that’s not even on the menu from the neighborhood pizzeria they snuck in for free.

---

“Hey gorgeous, how was your day? Did anything special happen?”

“I guess you could say it did.”