Where I First Fell in Love with Reality

I met Batgirl on Halloween in Brooklyn, 2008. We immediately agreed on the following things: that all new buildings in district 7 should not exceed ten stories; that the blocks of New York were in fact much like neuronal groups in the brain, and how it was better to imagine that after imagining the 8 million people here and that each one carries within their skull 10 billion neurons in the cerebral cortex alone, forming 50 billion connections; and that we would never be able to work in a lab torturing monkeys for science.

Afterwards, on the walk home I felt a peculiar sensation in my chest and somehow recognized that it was connected to the way the wet trees were making me feel as if they were all I ever needed. I don't remember if I used the word love, but why not put it out there now? Aren't we going to die, like the leaves outside Ferlingetti's pennycandy store -- crying too soon, too soon? So why not love a Batgirl, even if she does only date assholes? She's got an asshole, I've got an asshole -- we're a perfect match! And in the meantime, there's the lesson here, which isn't that it's better to go out than stay in or that the endless endlessness makes no promises to carry your personal ass, monkey-tortured soul, or god with it as it flows and so it goes--

No, the lesson is nothing can be reduced. I'll say it again: It was Halloween in Brooklyn, 2008. There are 8 million people here. Count them.