You’re waiting for the 61D. A 61A goes past. A 61A goes past. A 61A goes past. A 61A goes past.
The closer you get to the Squirrel Hill tunnel, the slower everything moves. Cars. People. Particles. It’s cold. Oh god, you’re so cold.
It was raining this morning, now it’s sunny outside. You check the thermometer, and it reads sixty. Better salt your sidewalk, gonna snow tonight.
You dropped a rock in that pothole on Brookline, and waited to hear it hit the bottom. You’re still waiting.
The sidewalk is getting steeper and steeper. Now there’s stairs. You climb and climb and climb. Look, a mountain goat.
Your GPS tells you to take a sharp right to stay on Forbes. Your GPS tells you to take a slight left to stay on Forbes. Your GPS tells you to hit the man in the suit to stay on Forbes. Hit the man. Hit him.
No one goes to Carlow University.
Bleeding? Buildings don’t bleed, don’t be silly. That’s just the steel rusting.
An orange sign just ahead of you reads “End Road Work.” You laugh, and see another sign. “Please. Please, I have children. End it.”
They built a bridge under the bridge to keep the bridge from falling on the other bridge under that bridge. The trolls are confused. Where can they live?
Someone said that if you fall in the Mon, when you climb out, your skin will peel off. Ridiculous. No one escapes the Mon.
You’re trying to get home, but every single street is a one way that takes your further and further away. Where is home? What is home?
They say the steel mills poisoned the air and killed the sky. Is that why it weeps? Whenever thunder roars, you swear you can hear a sob.
A man is stabbed with a bottle outside the bar, and ichor the color of tar drips from between his fingers, flecked with gleaming yellow. He bleeds black and gold. The gutters overflow with black and gold. Steelers going to the superbowl.
You woke up and found U P M C etched into your wrist. You went to UPMC physician, and he sent you to UPMC Shadyside. They checked you out and said it’s nothing serious. Good thing you have UPMC healthcare, could have been pricey otherwise.
The guy at Phipps laughs when you ask him what they use for fertilizer and shows you big bins of mulch in the back. Pitt students keep disappearing. The bins are never empty for long.
The treasure map reads “Turn left at the big church, then go straight till you see a PNC.” Thirty souls set out to find it, each took a different path. None returned.
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