City Hall.

such noise infects my dreams, i sit readily and watch and wait – every body’s in pairs, drunk, or going some where (everyone’s in a hurry here except for me. i’m where i mean to be.) subtley reducing my surroundings to what i’ll recount for you – to what i’ll remember next time; the fountain is dry and the wind chill. a drumbeat so profoundly disinteresting (-ed) and where are you all going? i’d like to follow you home – if you don’t mind, i’ll tail behind and see – just what exactly my mind is missing that i spend nights with words on my pillows instead of dreams – i hope to softly awaken the lost child inside so i too can stumble, accompanied by those who don’t care to know my name, just the direction i’m going – generally against the wind’s blowing, my warm seat long distant like my love and everything else in this life. so good morning and goodnight and in between i’m nothing but bones grinding, limbs flailing as the chasm swallows me whole – wholely i’m open to the idea that i’ll die before i meet the ground, unless she rises to meet me, like they say. i know she will someday. i wait, most of the time – mind and body reduced to wait – hurry up and wait ; fall asleep and wake – so, in theory i’m still here on this bench in front of nowhere and though i’ve been here before i really don’t recognize the scenery or the faces stumbling by so i think i’d like to take a minute, breathe and apologize – sympathize with the words i keep hearing, the wind i keep expecting to pick up – pick me up and carry – like the song she carries to me , through me in shards – delicately shattered with each line spoken never aloud, for fear of realizing forever in a sound. the temperature is dropping fifteen degrees each time i forget to inhale – counting the chimes sounding out the hour (is late), i always lose count – i always forget to inhale and by now i’m approaching absolute zero so i sigh.
exhale.
glance up.
and depart.