|
Keys clumsliy, clankily kiss, startling the sleeping engine- it coughs, awakens, bright-eyed and roaring.
I shiver, night is the fear in me, and sheepishly lock the door. I yawn, bored with shivering.
Midnight city scenery is life, slowly passing by. Except, you notice the city, the suspicion it carries.
STOP. Potapsco Street is still, as the blushing traffic light takes a brief hiatus from green and yellow.
There is a lump in my pockett. Spare change i suppose, more of a hiderance, of a burden, than an aid.
I breathe, more of a sigh than a breath, and for the moment, I see myself as a tea pot. Sitting, waiting, whistling, warm, alone...
It's a winter breath, the kind with steam... My mind sees correlations like that, since tea pots steam and whistle... and I am alone.
I hear rhythms being played on my chest. I'm sure everyone is a drummer at heart!
The buildings are standing in their polluted sleep stance. If they only had ears, I'd yell: "Hey! Down in front." They were blocking the moon.
It's dark. I uh... the blushing has ceased, the gap has closed, and there is a green face smiling at me. I don't feel like smiling back. Left suits my fancy.
There are people. Pretty people. Dirty, drunken, broken, dragging, pretty people. Somewhere between here and there, I found myself. Uncontrollably walking in their direction... faster. I follow the distinct smell of street life... faster. More briskly. STOP! Fear is the liar in me. Clankily, clumsily, coins kiss the coffee breath cup. The lump in my pockett has diminished.
I am alone.
|