dear (______):

Dear Pittsburgh,

I can feel again. Thanks so much. I almost walked into traffic today watching stars on my way home from work while the sun started to come up over the hills just east of Wilkinsburg. The clouds hanging just above the window dotted hills were like thick palette knife stroked oil scarves while the sky began its slow shift from black to spilled ink blue to this tarred aquamarine behind and above them. New York is flat soda in a dixie cup. You're champagne in a green stainless thermos.