Somewhere down the block is the rift to another world.
It appears when you pass by the red fire hydrant
which, upon your arrival, will start to bleed across the road:
it will pool at your feet, then it will start to weep,
and then you will drown in the ocean that is flooding to your shins.
You will bend at the knees to plead for escape,
and then it will appear:
a swirling galaxy
of colors you haven’t seen before.

Pain is sour.
It is not something that is shocking
or necessarily biting:
it is the same sensation as chewing on a lemon’s rind.

You can’t taste pain—
but when the seafoam reaches your mouth
coating your tongue,
leaving you wheezing and choking for breath,
you forget truth and superstition alike,
and instead you are begging for the distant streams of fresh water.

Somewhere down the block is the rift to another world.
When your knees sink to the sidewalk, be sure to take a breath,
and clasp your hands together to start praying.
Pray to yourself, for there is no salvation:
under the waves there is no one to hear you scream.

Somewhere down the block is the rift to another world.
Somewhere in that rift is the will of the most desperate.
Somewhere in the desperate are the tears they carry in vials…
and somewhere in these vials,
you will find yourself,

sucking on lemons, bleeding out, and crying.

take a breath through the oceans and depths.
listen to your rattling heartbeat.

(The rift slips closed with a deafening roar,
the fire hydrant sputters and disappears,
the sun slips from its veil and smiles at you,
the ocean reaches into the sky in vapor,
and you are soaking wet in the midst of rushing traffic.)