Leaping across the crosswalk, I could be an archer, though this thing strapped to my back is in fact a yoga mat. Downward facing dog, cat cow, thump thump, breathe in, breathe out. I could pull an arrow out and send it straight into the warm brown eye of the scruffy man bussing dishes, or I could run a palm along his jaw like a feather duster. I could be brought to tears on a stoop with a brisk breeze and a brittle book. I could be in any city. I could be in any body. But the body is in fact mine and tonight it is lithe and alive and invulnerable. I bring myself here and it is somehow easier to see my self and value the living shit out of it. Thank you.
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