I Went for a Walk
This city, he loves me. The way he talks, in siren’s songs, thumping music, illucid words over illicit acts; he speaks in the poetry of Big Town, and I find myself swaying to his rhythm.
Hey.
Got a light?
Sorry, don’t smoke.
Got some change?
Sorry, I don’t.
Need a bag?
I’ll be alright.
Looking for fun?
Thanks, not tonight.
I swagger with the timing of it. I’m most at home on empty streets, late at night, when it’s me, empty buildings and the stars. There are scatterings of people out now. The bars are slowly closing. I buy some oysters and some vegetable thins, a lottery ticket and some beef jerky. I don’t need it, but it’s an excuse to be out.
You’re not where I’m at.
I don’t need to be.
You don’t understand.
Man, you don’t know me.
C’mon, cross the street
Look, I don’t know…
What’s up sweetie?
I might go home.
This city, he loves me. I can tell in the way he talks to me. He whispers his secrets in morningsong, the sounds of birds and garbage trucks, the rush of cars in the rain or the crunch of feet on half-finished sidewalks. I can never quite bring myself to say “I can’t love you…” I’m afraid I might hurt his feelings.
