Home

I've been listening to the pipes lately. They give out a serious of pings and clangs each time I enter the bathroom. No one else is here in the apartment. I'm the only soul behind the locked door.

The pipes choked out their summer slumber, abandoning it to waft over the river and into the afternoon sky. Not a soul is with me in this apartment. My companions are these pipes, the brakes on a city bus, the fridge, a car honk, a Dominican radio station: the veins of a home.