Three hours

The city holds me in her hands
I crawl like an infant
Small steps across the streets
Through the crowds of liquid people
Countless scents in the night air
Blazing neon and the low thump of music

The plugs in my ears make me deaf
Like glasses they distort the world
Or reveal its true nature
We’re like blood running through her veins

I shed scars as I walk
The city seeps into the wounds and slowly heals
Healing without direct human contact
Repairing me
Isolating me
Reflections that no-one who knows me will see
Rippling across the night
Between the towers and along the glass
In the voices of loud boisterous youth
In the drunken stagger of Friday-night revelers
The solemn faces of lovers left alone
Between the mouths of those who kiss in the streets
Children asleep in their carer’s arms
Or held by the hand and walking dazed

I feel like all my friends have left me
And that these strangers and their lovers
Their friends
Their children
Have all come into the city to heal me
Heal me with their voices
With their wild shouts
Endless chatter
Tired loping through the streets
Their tears and arguments
Searching for their friends in the night
Glittering jewellery
Mobile phones
T-shirts and shoes and half-drunken bottles

I remember being a child in a department store
Walking through the racks of clothes
Letting them brush over me
Ruffling my hair
Smooth across my hands
I would close my eyes and push through
A thousand touches of affection
One after the other