I never imagined God as a neon light, or angels to be fast cars. But, well, what if the city is alive? This is just to say, I have put my faith into this concrete jungle. Have you ever seen angels crashing, bursting into supernovas of fire, or God, illuminating the dark? I have. There is no heaven for metropolitan children. This is my life. This is my soul. This is my religion. The city is the only amen I know.
‘My girlfriend and I are going to marry,’ he says, and I shipwreck on the love in his quivering voice. ‘Oh,’ I whisper, swallowing hard. ‘Great! When?’ ‘Soon.’ He smiles; delicate creases appear underneath his beautiful eyes, mapping out the path to my catastrophe. ‘I’m happy for you,’ I tell him. ‘I really am.’ Dying on the rocky shores, I lean forward to kiss his freshly shaven cheeks.