I stood on the shaky stones of a balcony, the very top view I saw. The place pollutes the blinking visible lights because they are various and many. I see the roads filled with elegant and posh cars as they race to hurry home. It is Tuesday night, and I find myself lacking.
I’m quite possibly the (only) idiot wearing a black polyester sweater underneath the sweltering heat of the summer’s eve. I don’t mind — it reminded me of you.
On fragile nights like these, I carefully place myself in a state of lonliness. I sit, secluded and quiet. I don’t wait or hither myself from reality, I just think.
The noise and the unwanted traffic, the city’s boisterous laughter of people shredding the streets in hurried gestures and cars honking their way home; it all seemed very unwanted and grudgingly unbearable.
But the evening’s great blanket of unclean stars and darkness, I saw your innocence. In the blinking blur of lights, I saw your — distant, distant — smile. The fluttery chatter of everyday folk reminded me of your silly laughter.
Oh yes, in the noisy city I saw you.
And the smoky scene and dusty roads made me miss you — more.
