10-Line Tuesday

June 28, 2016

losing ourselves

We stood in a long line for the free outdoor concert in Central Park,
dimly aware of the gathering clouds, the close proximity of bodies and where
the nearest exits might be, you know, just in case. The two women behind us
had taken the train for a night off from their little ones; I wondered if, along
with their picnic blanket, they'd packed a new fear of crowded spaces, knowing
how a single night's revelry could explode in a concentric narrative of loss. Either way,
the music started; we packed in close as we could to the stage. And when it finally
began to rain, we turned amnesiac, losing ourselves in the edgeless happiness
of a warm summer evening, our clothes getting more soaked with each song, our voices
rising in the same refrain, and everywhere we looked: dancing, dancing, dancing.