the city has no name

"Telegraph Ave. ("Oakland" by Lloyd) and manifestations

The only one I know is you, so the fuck I’m supposed to do?

I would like to walk in a city that feels like home. I’d like to feel the sun on my arms and not recall your living room, awash in shades of blue. Nap time hues. I’d like to have music on in the background, but not to distract me or pass the time. I want to really listen. I want the city to sing along.

The city I walk in knows my name. It holds me and knows I like the rain. When I laugh, it does not look at me weird. It tells more jokes. The city questions my moods, but does not get mad when I can’t put words to them. It wants to know more, so it shows me their favorite bars, tells me stories of the nights spent there, asks “where to next?”. I learn so much from the city that I feel like I dreamt you.

My apartment in the city has so many pillows. It laughs while I sing. I can be heard through the distance. Through the silence. I open the window on cloudy days and recall a living room in blue, in beige, in all the seasons I knew you. I will smile fondly and the city will smile back.

In Oakland, in Oakland

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