On the boundaries of a working-class neighborhood and a row of manors, my neighborhood smells like fresh cut grass and spilled sewage. I look out the window where I was once pulled away in an ambulance while the whole block watched. The EMT said “What do you study at school?” trying to calm me down. I said, “English.”. She said, “It seems like you already know English.” I said, “We got a wise guy over here!” 

In the park, my buddy tells me when he was young, he used to strap razor blades to kites and fly them into each other with his friends. They’d rip each other apart and flutter back down to earth like tattered warplanes. “Did you clean up the razors when you were done?” I asked. “I didn’t think about that,” he said. 

There was a time where I would throw beer bottles off buildings in New York City. Shattering on people and passing cars. At my brother’s bachelor party, a marine friend with PTSD ripped a satellite dish off a high rise and heaved it off into someone’s windshield. The world spins so fast we don’t even know we’re growing older. Everything is constantly displacing.

Adam Galanski-De León I a writer from Chicago, IL. He maintains a website at http://www.adamjgalanskideleon.com.

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